


The Sun Falls

by oyakodon



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Featuring talking fish, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kind of OT5?, Like...REALLY slow, M/M, Multi, No Smut, Noct goes through shit, Noctis centric, OT4, Plotty, Polyamory Negotiations, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Worldbuilding, platonic and romantic relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-05-08 17:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14699025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oyakodon/pseuds/oyakodon
Summary: “It is no longer ordained,”Bahamut said in a tone that chilled Noctis to his bones.“The King of Kings has chosen to tread the path of perfidy and refused to ascend beyond the mortal realm. By fulfilling his calling, stability would be restored to our star, yet he favored his earthly greed to live.”The rage in his voice built by each word.“To times past he fled and believed he would escape our notice!”Bahamut couldn’t be any clearer, but to Noctis’s ears, no single one of his words made sense. Was Bahamut saying what Noctis was thinking? That he… no.After the Light is restored to Eos, Noctis embarks on his journey to the afterlife. However, he never reaches his journey’s end. Thrown back into his teenage body and rejected by the Crystal, Noctis must find a new way to make things right or he'll lose everything.





	1. Journey Interrupted, or: where was that Boat Headed to Anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **Revised version of chapter one as of Nov 18, 2018**  
>     
> 

It was the moment before the sun was completely ready to wake up. Only a faint line of light at the edge of the horizon hinted at the coming dawn, casting the ocean a misty purple. The Royal Vessel drifted in the calm water, with but a slight breeze disturbing the rhythm of the waves. Noctis swayed along with it: up and down, up and down, up and down…

He knew he was on his way somewhere, on his way to a good place. However, the journey was slow-going. Wherever he was headed, there was no reason to hurry. Here, out on the sea, Noctis was at peace.

Well, almost.

If only that fish on the line wouldn’t be such a _pain in the ass._

Judging from its silhouette, it was a small trevally, barely twelve inches long. But this tiny thing put up resistance with a vigor akin to the Devil of the Cygillan.

“Oh c’mon you little…” Noctis ground his teeth. Some fish didn’t know when to give up. Not that he should've been surprised, really, considering this fight would determine freedom or death for the poor thing.

But Noctis wouldn't give up, either.

For several minutes, it was a tug-of-war. One moment he would gain ground, the next moment the fish would make a long run to the open water on Noctis’s right, stealing the line off his reel.

His arms started to burn under the strain of the fish’s thrashing, but that only fueled his determination. For reasons he couldn't comprehend, this was the fight of his life and he had to win. With each tug on the line, it became more and more pressing not to lose this one catch, however tiny and inedible it may turn out.

His line wouldn’t hold much longer, though. It was tight, very tight, and looked ready to snap. _Uh-oh_. Noctis had to admit that the battle was turning out more and more in favor of _this puny beast_ of a fish.

Just then, he noticed the sun finally rising above the horizon, momentarily blinding him with the intensity of its light. At the same time, the fish broke the surface of the water, making for a high leap.

"Whoa."

It was beautiful. Small, as he'd guessed, but magnificent, its wet scales glimmering an ethereal amber, almost golden, bathed in the radiance of the morning sun. It wasn’t a trevally. Noctis had never seen this kind of fish before. Strangely enough, its eyes were trained on him insistently. Almost as if it wanted to tell him something. Yes, he could see that there was _something,_ some kind of knowledge, gleaming in the translucent eyes of the fish. As it opened its mouth, there seemed to be words flowing out of it and Noctis was just about to grasp their meaning and—

From nowhere, a thunderous thumping shook through the boat. And then _everything_ changed.

Where the world had been calm before, now it exploded with motion. The water became alive beneath the Royal Vessel, waves pitching and tossing the boat so much that Noctis could barely hold on to the railing. The sky opened up, and a torrent of rain pelted down as sharp, cold winds slashed at his skin and wrenched his rod out of his hands.

His stomach doing nauseating flips and his whole body shaking from the wet clothes clinging to his skin, Noctis didn't even have the presence of mind to mourn the loss of his beloved rod. He was almost convinced it was the Tidemother herself wreaking havoc once again, the memory alone making his blood boil. Noctis had seen enough of Leviathan to last a lifetime.

Despite all his other much more pressing concerns, Noctis chose that moment to look up at the sky, in search of the sun. The sun was still creeping its way up to the firmament, and he watched on as it rose higher and higher.

Until it stopped, and fell. As if its weight suddenly became too much to bear on its own, it just dropped out of its assigned place, plunging straight in the sea.

 _There it goes_ , thought Noctis.

There was an enormous splash where it hit the water somewhere far away in the distance, setting off a wave that looked taller than the Citadel.

“Well crap,” slipped out of his mouth as he realized the surge of water was coming _his_ way—and fast at that.

His hold on the railing tightened. He knew nothing could save him from this. _Shit shit shit_ , repeated in his mind as he stared at the mountain of a wave closing in over him. It cast a dark shadow over the boat, and for a moment Noctis thought the long night had returned once more.

That moment didn’t last long, because water, so much water, swept over and tore at him, wrenching him away from the boat. His grip on the railing posed no resistance. The ice-cold waves felt like needles piercing into his skin, and he would have cried out in pain if not for the salt water burning his throat. Fighting for breath, Noctis struggled to swim his way back towards the surface— _wherever_ the surface was—but the water’s current was too strong, and it pulled him back down.

So he relaxed, and let it happen. 

Then, as he sank, he saw it. There in the distance, the sun was ablaze, scorching everything around it an angry red. Despite all these miles between him and that thing, Noctis could feel its heat radiating even from where he sank through the water. And, as if mirroring his own descent, the sun was sinking further into the depths of the ocean.

The both of them sank and sank, and sank.

Little by little he could feel himself losing consciousness. The last thing he saw was the big red ball of the sun, and, much to his annoyance, that freaking golden fish closing in on him, no doubt mocking him for his failure.

 

* * *

 

And why did Noctis have the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something really, really important?

 

* * *

 

Next thing he knew, everything was back to normal.

 _Phew. This fish puts up a good fight_ , Noctis thought _._ So good, that for a second he had the most vivid hallucination of drowning. And of celestial bodies going for a plunge in the ocean.

Ha. Yeah, sure.

Now, though, Noctis stood there as before, clothes dry, rod in hand, fish still on the hook. The water was as calm as ever, as was the breeze. Seriously, this little pest. Noctis felt he already went through all swear words he knew because of this fish and it still wasn’t enough. But he would end it n—

The line snapped.

“Just. Great.” Noctis almost cracked his rod in two right then and there.

The fish, meanwhile, made its exit with a final splash. This tiny thing would grate on his nerves until the end.

But Noctis wouldn’t have it.

He grabbed his tackle box to pull out both new line and lure, ready for revenge. If not on this fish then on one of its friends. Yep, he was petty like that. He respooled the line, secured the lure, readied himself to cast, and—

“Don’t ya think it’s about time we headed back? Not that I’m _bored_ or anything watchin' you fish for hours on end,” came a voice from behind him. Gladio.

Oh, right, Gladio.

Wait—Gladio? Since when—?

Noctis turned around. There was Gladio indeed, sitting on a camping chair set up under a shady tree next to the pier, half-read novel in hand.

How could he have forgotten his company? Especially when that company was none other than _Gladio—_ big, bulky, behemoth? And most of all, always ready to comment on Noctis’s fishing failures? No way would he miss _that_.

“Eos to Noct?” his Shield asked, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards at Noctis’s gaping expression. “You still with me? Or have the fish finally turned you into one of them?” Yup, this was Gladio and his big mouth, all right.

“Uh, no?” Noctis suppressed a snarky retort. They’d be at it for ages if he took the bait. More importantly, what had Gladio been talking about again? Oh right. “And, head back, where?”

“Back to the Citadel, brat. Where else ya have in mind?”

Citadel? If that was a joke, it wasn’t funny. During their journey, he, Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto had come to the unspoken agreement to never make jokes about their lost home.

“C’mon. Pack up your stuff and let’s get going.” Gladio slammed his book shut with an audible slap and stretched his long limbs. “Thought you could escape today’s festivities altogether or what?”

Festivities? Okay, this joke was starting to become weird, even for Gladio.

“What do you mean?” Noctis asked cautiously.

“Oh c’mon. We all know all you want to do on your birthday is fishing, but His Majesty is waiting for you.”

Gladio stood, and began to gather his belongings. Clearly, he expected the same of Noctis, but Noctis’s mind was elsewhere. Birthday. Festivities. _Dad_? Not even Gladio would go this far with his jokes. What was going on?

Noctis scraped his shoes on the wooden pier he was standing on, the feel of the smooth and sturdy surface under his feet somehow grounding him. It felt better to finally stand on solid ground after the constant rocking and rolling of the Royal Vessel.

Yeah, solid ground was nice.

Real nice.

…Wait.

_What the—?_

He stopped to take in his surroundings, carefully this time. He stood on a small wooden pier jutting from the edge of a lake _,_  a lake which looked slightly familiar, although he couldn’t put his finger on when he had last been there. That in itself wasn't surprising, what with the insane number of lakes and ponds he’d visited during their journey. The real issue was, he was certain that just moments earlier he had been standing on the Royal Vessel out on the open sea. How could he be out there one minute, and here the next, without even noticing? And he had been alone there, but now Gladio was here. And his friend was talking nonsense about the Citadel, and his birthday, and Dad who was apparently waiting for him.

There was so much wrong with this situation. His brain worked on overdrive trying to make sense of everything.

But nothing made sense.

Being here didn’t make sense. And now that he thought about it, everything from before didn’t, either. How come he had been out at dawn all by himself in the middle of the ocean, to begin with? Why would he leave his friends behind for a boat trip of all things? Sure, if they camped close to a fishing pond, sometimes Noctis would sneak out when he couldn’t sleep and go for some night fishing. Or sometimes he’d ask one of his friends to wake him early because some fish only bite in the morning hours. But this time around, he didn’t have any recollection of how he even ended up all alone on the Royal Vessel. And everything after that was even more confusing. Ugh.

What was the last memory that made sense, anyway?

There was…

There was something.

There…

Oh.

Oh Gods.

 

_I walked tall… And though it took me a while, I’m ready now. I love you all. Luna, guys…Dad… The time we had together… I cherish._

 

_I’m ready now._

Damn.

_I’m ready now._

Of course. This was it. He remembered.

All at once, everything came flooding back to him. Noctis felt his eyes starting to burn and his heart rate going through the roof. He choked on his breath, trying to control the overflow of emotions. _I remember now. Oh gods, I remember._ How could he have forgotten for even a minute?

Here—wherever this place was—the sunlight kissing the water of the lake was bright and the air was warm, hugging Noctis’s body in a welcoming embrace. But before, while he had been stuck inside the Crystal for ten years, there was only the unyielding coldness of a world shrouded in darkness. While he slept, his friends and his people were left behind in that horrible world to fend for themselves. So many people died there. So many people died for him, _because_ of him. And when he came back, the world was in ruin and all he could do was bring back Light for them.

And that he did. He remembered the feeling of it. Fighting Ardyn. The Royal Arms piercing him one after another, until the only one left was his father’s. And he remembered burning. Burning in the Crystal's light. Dying. And realizing that he wouldn’t even be able to see whether he succeeded, whether the dawn really would be restored to his friends and his people, to all people of Eos. Realizing that it was over for him.

And then it was, or at least he thought it was.

So why was he here…? What was this, then?

The afterlife? If this was what the afterlife would be like, Noctis had to admit it was different from what he’d expected. It was too…normal. Aside from watching the sun drop out of the sky, maybe. _And_ the sudden location swap from saltwater to freshwater. Other than that? Just ordinary stuff happening. In a disturbing way, being here at a random lake on a fishing trip with Gladio was fucking with his head more than the idea of going for a dip in the ocean with the sun as his swimming buddy.

“—oct? Hey, Noct!?” Oops. Speaking of Gladio, he was calling his name. Loudly. How long had Noctis just been standing there and freaking out?

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you today?” Gladio’s face showed his typical mixture of worry and annoyance. Gladio’s face...that was _young_ , now that Noctis really looked. Much younger than the last time he saw him. Even younger than the time they left for their journey right before the Fall of the Crown City. There were no scars on his face. Neither that stupid scar Gladio brought back from his solo trip nor the one he took for Noctis when protecting him from some drunken guy in Insomnia.

That face took on an increasingly sour expression as the silence continued, though. Noctis must've been taking too long staring at Gladio. 

“Uh, sorry, I guess?” he said sheepishly. “Spaced out for a minute.”

“Tell me about it.” Gladio's expression turned from outright scary to somewhat skeptical. But whatever went through his head was left unsaid for now. “Now, hurry up. Ain’t got no time to waste.” Gladio seemed to have given up on Noctis packing up by himself. He grabbed Noctis’s fishing tackle and rod, and hastily threw everything together—no doubt making a mess of everything. Then he went off somewhere. Maybe towards where they were…parked?

He stared after Gladio’s retreating back for another moment and took a deep breath. His mind couldn’t stop running over everything that happened. He didn’t feel like he could keep up with it all. _But_ he figured keeping up with Gladio was the first priority for now, before his friend exploded on him or turned into a real behemoth or something. Processing what was happening to him—whatever that was—had to wait.

So he followed behind, trying to catch up to Gladio’s head start. His Shield threw a look over his shoulder, seemingly satisfied that Noctis had finally decided to listen and move it.

As they walked up a dirt road, Noctis took in the scenery around him, trying to figure out just why this place seemed so _familiar_. The lake they distanced themselves from was of medium size, nothing as huge as the Vesperpool, but no tiny pond, either. They were surrounded by vibrant greenery, but enough sunlight came through from above. Aside from the occasional twittering of birds, it was quiet here. This place could be anywhere in Lucis.

Once they progressed further and the road opened up, though, Noctis began to see more and more signs of life. On a bench close to the road, an old man was perched on the edge, chugging beer. Meanwhile, a family was coming their way, son sandwiched between mother and father. What finally made him jump in surprise, though, was the group of cyclists zooming right past him. Still, this was nowhere near as startling as the sound of a busy city highway somewhere close by.

This wasn’t the countryside.

All these sights and sounds were both so foreign and normal, like when he was younger; like in his teenage years. It took him back to a time when things had been simpler. By no means perfect, and maybe not simple, but simpler.

That was when it clicked.

He jerked his eyes up to the sky. Shit.

There was the Wall, looming over them just like in the past.

For some inexplicable reason, they were _inside_ the Crown City and the Wall was still there—gods, _the Wall_. That meant Dad was here, too. Now it made sense why Gladio looked younger, and why he mentioned the Citadel and Dad in such a casual manner. _Guess anything’s possible in the afterlife… Even visiting places from the past._

 _The past..._ Gladio had said that it was Noctis’s birthday today. He didn't know which birthday, but he knew enough to say it was before the Fall. 

And this place… He remembered it now. This was a natural park area in the western outskirts of Insomnia. Noctis recalled that he occasionally came here for fishing, usually with Ignis or Gladio in tow. He couldn't see the Citadel from here, as this place was too far off from the center of the city where all the skyscrapers and luxury buildings accumulated, but this was inside the Wall, it was Insomnia. His home. 

He just couldn't figure out why he was here of all times and places.

Before he could come to a conclusion, though, they arrived at a decently packed parking lot.

As predicted, Gladio’s car—he recognized the flashy girl the instant he saw her—waited for them. They hopped in and Gladio started her up, evidently in a hurry to get back to the Citadel.

“Okay, let’s hope traffic’s not a bitch and we make it with time to spare, maybe get you into somethin’ fancier.” He threw a quick glance in Noctis’s direction. “Iggy’ll kill me if you show up lookin' like _that_.”

That statement made Noctis look down at himself. 

He was wearing a casual outfit, definitely something he’d still wear. What baffled him, though, was the difference in his body. He was close enough to his current— _err, future? 20, no 30-ish years old? Ugh, whatever_ —build, but slightly leaner, and his limbs looked shorter, too. It wasn’t anything big, but it was disturbing to have a look at his younger body. And he hadn’t even seen his face yet. Just how old was he here?

 _Argh_ … He pressed a hand against his temple to fight off the tension of a headache that was starting to build behind his eyes.

“If we make it in an hour, we’ll be there by five p.m. Sound good?” Gladio asked.

_Five p.m.? But how—?_

No longer able to trust himself enough to speak out loud, Noctis just nodded.

That seemed to be enough for Gladio who—doubtlessly having caught on to Noctis’s lacking desire for small talk—turned on the radio and didn’t attempt any more conversation. That was something Noctis could live with right now.

Five p.m. Huh. Only now did Noctis notice how the sun's position had changed. He hadn’t even noticed earlier—what with the Wall taking up all his attention. Not that anything surprised him at this point. What was the big deal anyway? He _only_ went from early morning to late afternoon in record time today. Just _another_ thing that didn’t make sense.

Taking another deep breath, Noctis tried to calm himself.

He needed to figure out more about this place—about this _time_ —or he’d be in for even more surprises later.

An idea came to him. He patted down his jeans pockets and— _ha!_ —fished out his saving grace: his phone.

No doubt it would give him _some_ helpful information. Like today’s date. Clearly, today was his birthday. But which year? He tapped the phone. Fortunately, he never changed his passcode, much to the chagrin of a certain chamberlain of his. He remembered too many times Ignis had tried to convince him to change it.

 _“Using His Majesty’s birthday as a passcode is a security liability,_ Noct," he would say. _"You had best change your passcode promptly."_  

_“What, should I use your birthday instead?”_

Eyebrows raised, Ignis would ask, _“Do tell, when would that be?"_

_“…W-well, that’s what I’m sayin'! You know me, Specs, Dad’s birthday’s the only one I’d remember.”_

_“And unfortunately, so does everyone else in this kingdom.”_ Then he would let out a sigh. _“I suggest you reset it. And preferably before we have a public relations disaster on our hands.”_

Or something along those lines. Not that Ignis had been wrong. And still, Noctis had kept that passcode—mostly for the purpose of getting the occasional rise out of his future advisor.

Noctis typed in the passcode. _Moment of truth._  The home screen flashed, and today’s date popped up.

August 30, 752.

He counted backward. It was his seventeenth birthday.

He was more than thirteen years back in the past. Even though he had spent most of those thirteen years in the Crystal and time flowed in strange ways there, the memory of his seventeenth birthday still felt way too far off in the past. Why would his afterlife make him relive that birthday?

Admittedly, his seventeenth birthday _had_ been kind of special. On that very birthday, a ceremony had been held in the Citadel—his coming of age ceremony.

As heir apparent, Noctis had come of age earlier than normal crown citizens. If not for his dad, it would have been even earlier. Like the last half-dozen generations of successors in the line of Lucis, Noctis had originally been meant to reach the age of majority on his sixteenth birthday. But his dad had tried to push back the date of the ceremony as much as possible, giving Noctis an extra year before he would have to take on more royal obligations. Another year of freedom for him.

Until his seventeenth birthday.

And that day, as it seemed, was today.

Was that why he was here? Was his memory of this birthday so special?

But of course, the answer refused to come to him. Giving up on this thought, Noctis forced his attention back to the phone. His inbox was practically fit to burst. Well, it was his birthday after all. After some pondering, he pressed his thumb on the blue envelope icon. Predictably, the majority of the texts seemed to be birthday wishes, and Noctis scrolled through in the hope that some of these messages would jog his memory. He didn't recognize many of the contacts, but that wasn't anything to do with being in the afterlife; he was just horrible with names.

But maybe—maybe there were some texts from his friends…or from Dad?

That was when a text caught his eye. There it was, a text from Dad, already marked as ‘read’. Not that he could remember its content after all this time.

Noctis’s heart pounded against his ribcage as his fingers hovered over the screen. He wanted to read Dad’s text so badly, but he didn’t know if he could keep it together, after all that had happened. And if he were to get all emotional right here in the car with Gladio sitting next to him, what then? It would make things even more awkward for sure.

 _Later then_ , he promised himself.

Scrolling down, he spotted a text from Prompto. This he could handle.

 **Prompto (11:23):** _hey buddy! happy bday!!! 2 bad u have a boooring royal party planned 4 today and wont grace this pleb with ur presence… lmk once u know when u wanna hit the arcade tmr!!_

Oh Prompto...

The text instantly brought a no-doubt stupid grin to Noctis’s face. Damn, he missed his best friend. The few days in between Noctis’s awakening after his Crystal sleep and their return to the Citadel barely had been enough time to catch up and get to know this grown-up version of his friend better. He could only get a small glimpse of the incredible person Prompto had become.

The same could be said for Ignis and Gladio, of course. He missed them all, and he just wanted to hang out with them just like back when they had been young and stupid.

Maybe he had the chance to do so here?

Even if his friends were just some projection or memory or whatever without the shared memory of their journey, it was better than nothing. He’d take that chance anytime.

This thought made him look over to Gladio, who had kept quiet the whole ride. Now that Noctis had calmed down somewhat, he wanted to make use of the opportunity of this unexpected reunion, because who knew how long he was allowed to stay here?

But as always, Noctis struggled with his words. What was he even supposed to say in this kind of situation? What would his seventeen-year-old self have said? Probably not the right thing, either. Noctis had never been good with words, especially not when it came to Gladio. The both of them only ever managed either some good-natured banter or ended up having full-blown arguments. There was almost nothing in between.

But he really wanted to say _something_.

Noctis tucked his phone back into his pocket and sneaked another peek at Gladio. He took a breath, swallowed his insecurities down and just went for it.

“Hey, thanks for today, I guess.” Okay, that sounded cringe-worthy.

“Oho, someone finally learned some manners.” And why for god's sakes had he missed that guy again? “So, how was the rod? Any good?” Gladio asked.

 _Great, more guessing games_ , Noctis thought. He could hear his brain rattling at this point: A Rod. Fishing. Fishing rod. Gladio and rods. Birthday. Insomnia. Rod. Gladio. Birthday. Rod. Oh.

“Right, the one…you gave me?”

“Yeah, that one, genius.”

Noctis managed something close to a genuine smile this time around. “Yeah,“ he said. “Yeah, I like it... Thanks.”

He received something of a big grin in return.

Right. Gladio once gave him a fishing rod for one of his birthdays. His seventeenth. He _did_ use that rod for years.

The both of them fell silent again, but the silence didn’t feel as awkward anymore. Noctis relaxed back in his seat. For the first time since he found himself back here in the Insomnia of his past memory, he wasn’t on edge and didn’t feel close to panicking or puking or whatever. That definitely was a step-up for him.

But gods, was he _exhausted_.

He let his eyes flutter shut. Right now, he didn’t even care that the music of the radio was so disturbingly outdated, he’d be in for a life of cringing if he were to listen. Instead, he just let the music envelope his ears, helping his brain to get into a drowsy mindset.

He'd never have imagined the afterlife would turn out like this, but _maybe_ it actually wasn’t such a bad thing. He’d get to see his home in one piece. He already got to see the sun right where it should be, high up in the sky. He'd gotten to see Gladio. And he’d also be able to meet his other friends. And his dad. And maybe even Luna? Who cared if this was real or not? Maybe this was his afterlife giving him a chance to say goodbye to the life he had, to give him the peace he needed to move on? For once, he knew that everything would be alright. He’d already done his work. He'd brought back the dawn, and this was his well-deserved retirement. Yeah.

Maybe he’d go back to the lake one of these days, take the guys with him. They could make a camping trip out of it. Gladio would have the time of his life. Ignis wouldn’t admit to it, but he’d secretly enjoy cooking for them. And Prompto would be beyond elated to just be invited along and snap away until his camera would overheat. And Noctis… Well, he never got to go through with his revenge on that nasty fish. Oh yes, that sounded like a plan. Feeling light and giddy with anticipation, Noctis dozed off, planning their outdoor trip and brainstorming evil revenge schemes.

Nothing ever had been easy, but he finally made it. Everything would be all right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! :D
> 
> I've been waiting for a nice, long time travel fic that explores the time **before** the chocobros depart from Insomnia, one where poor Noctis goes back further in the past - practically, a few years before the game begins. But none ever came (as far as I know), so I decided to write it myself! 
> 
> In this story, Noctis and the others will go through a lot emotionally and physically - be prepared.  
> I'm also going to explore many lore elements of FFXV, such as the Kings of Yore and the Astrals. You won't believe me how many notes I took while playing the game to make sense of the lore. :')  
> This is also a story for people who love time travel mechanism because there's even more of it to come.
> 
> The story is all outlined, planned out, and will have 33 chapters in total! 
> 
> Now, Noctis's struggle to make things right will be the main focus of this story, but the tags don't lie: there will also be a romance subplot, and moreover, it will be a polyship. It will play quite an important part in this story, but please be aware that this will be as slow of a burn as they come with much character and relationship development to cover first. Polyamory is difficult to write, but I do plan to treat these relationships with respect and as realistically as possible. 
> 
> Anyway, there's lots to come, so I hope you'll enjoy it!  
> Finally, big shout-out to my wonderful beta readers [Kitsune138](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsune138/pseuds/Kitsune138) and [Poshu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poshu/pseuds/Poshu)! I’m so lucky to have you!  
>    
> [tumblr](https://myoyakodon.tumblr.com/)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/oyashiran)  
> 


	2. By the Grace of the Gods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **Revised version of chapter two as of Nov 11, 2018**  
>     
> 

Noctis was having somewhat of a situation with the golden fish from before.

“Look, if you’d just…hold—I mean— _bite_ on tight and let me guide you right here, yeah, just like this, wait—no, wait! Where are you goin—argh, were you even listening?!”

The fish looked at Noctis as if he’d lost his marbles. Rude. _Who_ was the crazy one out of the two of them? Obviously _not_ Noctis.

“Oh c’mon, we can be done here real quick, if you’d just—“

However, before he could finish his sentence, the fish opened its mouth.

“And _I_ would have expected better of _you_ out of all humans, my king. Is this your way of having fun—sweet-talking innocent living beings to their doom? I sure hope you only do so in your dreams or I may need to wonder about your morals.”

Noctis gulped. He was being reprimanded by a fish. “Uh…”

The fish let out something akin to a human sigh. “I wish your dream guardian—what was his name again, Furuncle? No that’s not quite right, oh yes, Carbuncle!—in any case, I wish he would have informed me of the brutal nature of your dreams in advance, and I would have come mentally prepared.”

Once done with its rant, the fish gave him an expectant look. “Well now, what do you have to say for yourself, my king?”

Clearly, it wanted an apology.

Suddenly, Noctis was a kid again, getting scolded by his dad for not eating up his vegetables. Though compared to his dad, who would go on and on about how very important vegetables were for his growth and health, the fish’s argument seemed much more convincing. Noctis felt a deep sense of shame welling up inside him. “Sorry… I won’t do it again.”

“That is all I wanted to hear.” The fish gave him a…’fishy’ smile. “Now, please make sure to remove that hook carefully, and we will be good.”

The fish swam up closer, and Noctis did as he was told.

“Sorry about that.”

“I forgive you this once.” The fish looked quite comfortable where it was lounging back in the water. “Now that we have taken care of that, let us move on to more pressing matters.”

“Oh, okay?” What would a fish want to discuss with him?

“My king, it has come to my knowledge that you will encounter Bahamut today. Now, please listen, for the Six have intervened once already and I wouldn’t put it past them to do so again. This is of great importance. I would strongly adddvi…ccce... aggg… s...ggg... Bahhha...uttt...”

What the—? Was something wrong with Noctis’s hearing or were the words of that fish suddenly sounding more like gibberish than actual speech? Not that fish were supposed to speak the human language anyway. Then again, Noctis had seen and heard stranger things.

Now, though, it was like there was some kind of static disturbance between them. “Wait a sec—what did you say?”

„I sa...ddd pleasssseeee hhhheed my warrrrningggg… noo...o... goood... www...i…ll... c…mmme… ou...o... mee…g Bahhhhamutttt… d...y... mmm...y kkkinggg... ddddo notttt co…e into contact with th… Ccc-C-c.... e...er…” Its voice distorted even further, getting harder and harder to decipher.

Flashing blues of electricity appeared around them. Its crackling reminded Noctis of the times Ramuh had come to his aid and cast Judgment down on his foes. Now, though, Noctis felt like he was on the receiving end of that judgment. The world around them pulsed in waves of colors and sounds and he started to wonder whether this was more of a nightmare.

“Hey, wait, something is wro—”

The moment Noctis tried to speak up, the fish shut him down with a glare, translucent eyes and all. It seemed the fish was completely immersed in its speech and didn’t want to be interrupted. Didn’t it notice what was happening around them?

“Plllleassssse do...tttt interrrrr...pttttt me...e...e! I toldddd y...u, thissss is of uttttmosttt importtttancccce... Bahhhhamutttt will att…tt-T-t-T-to t...a… your-r …r-r-rs. Go..o..oo… Go and findddd where thhhhe—”

The words exploded into a roaring sound of pure static, shrill and hot in Noctis’s ears.

It was too much to tolerate, so he tried to tune out whatever else the fish continued to say and waited until he would wake up.

—Arrrre you lisssseninnng...my kingggg?”

 

* * *

 

“Almost there,” came Gladio’s gruff voice from Noctis’s left, jerking him awake.

The haze of sleep lifted, but Noctis needed a moment to get his bearings and make sense of where he was. Comfy passenger seat beneath him, purring motor and horribly outdated music battling for dominance, and a— _oh damn the gods_ —disturbingly young Gladio behind the wheel.

Right. He was in Gladio’s car, and they were on their way to the Citadel. Noctis was on some kind of afterlife trip down memory lane. He still had to figure the details of that bit out. All in time, though.

For now, Noctis stretched his limbs, whole body sore from sleep. He relished the feeling of every part of his spine popping back into place.

“Heh, someone had a good nap?”

“Had the weirdest dream.” He tried to hold on to the dream, but it was slipping away fast. “Something about a talking fish?”

“Sounds like somethin’ only _your_ brain could come up with.” Noctis could _hear_ Gladio smirking. Damn that guy.

His annoyance evaporated together with the remnants of his dream the moment he caught sight of what lay right outside the windows, calling for his full attention.

There the center of the Crown City stood in all its glory, not a single trace of war to be found. The city was enormous and beautiful with all its skyscrapers, office blocks, and mansions, one building taller than the next, their architecture simple but refined in a way one couldn’t find anywhere else in Eos.

But it was the Citadel that towered above all of them, right at the heart of the city. Even from the distance, Noctis could see its façade glistening a majestic white under the rays of the late afternoon sun.

Noctis was home.

What pulled at Noctis’s heartstrings even more than seeing his home bathed in sunlight, though, was just how alive the city was, _alive_ with his people: moms and dads rushing home from work, young women leisurely strolling around for some window shopping, groups of teenagers hanging out around the plazas, enjoying the late summer day. All these voices and noises coming from everywhere—a phone going off somewhere, a car honking, children’s laughter, music coming from a store—breathed life into the city that just _hours earlier_ had been a nest of daemons and the epitome of destruction and decay.

It was both a wondrous and horrifying sight. As much as it delighted Noctis to be back home, he also felt like he was looking at an illusion that could fade away any moment. Because that was what this was, right? Noctis was _dead_ , and the Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto he'd left behind in the ruins of Insomnia would most likely have their hands full with rebuilding for many years to come. Insomnia would never quite be the same as it was before the Fall.

This place was nothing more than a memory of a time that could never be retrieved.

And still, Noctis couldn’t contain the utter joy that overcame him by being able to see his home like this, whole and undamaged.

 _If this were real—_ , he thought.

But it wasn’t. He knew this.

Before long—too soon if he had a say in it—they arrived at the Citadel, passing the gates. Gods, even the Citadel was full of life; there were guards, and tourists, even a group of elementary school kids. Noctis couldn’t get enough of the sight of so many human beings in one place. Gladio was already steering the car in the direction of the underground parking lot, though, so he barely had time to take all of it in.

“Made it,” Gladio said as they pulled into a parking spot. Once the car came to a complete stop, he threw a quick look at his phone. “And just in time. Still got about one hour ‘til it starts. That enough for your hair care, princess?”

Noctis made a big show of rolling his eyes. “ _Very_ funny.” On the inside, though, he was just happy that he could fool around like this with his friend, or rather, be made a fool of.

They exited the car, and Gladio led him to the elevator. Noctis’s brain still was working itself into a frenzy and his attention probably wasn’t where it should be. He hoped his behavior didn’t appear too odd, but his Shield didn’t seem to bother. He was in an exceptionally good mood today—or was that just how Gladio always had been when he was younger, not yet weighed down by his duty as Shield? Maybe. _All of them_ had changed throughout their journey and the ten years of darkness.

He pushed all those thoughts away once the elevator arrived with a loud ding.

“Gotta get off to change into somethin’ different myself, and check in with my dad,” Gladio said the moment they entered the elevator. He punched two buttons. “But I’ll come pick you up later.”

“Oh, okay…”

Moments later, the elevator dinged again. “Well then, no more slacking, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

“If that doesn’t sound promising.” With one last clap on his shoulder, Gladio got off, leaving Noctis to his own devices.

Oh well. He knew what to do from here on. Once the elevator arrived, he’d go straight, take a turn left, then follow down the floor until he reached the third door on the right—his suite. He’d never forget.

And once inside, all he'd have to do was change into one of his fanciest tailored suits and look presentable. Ignis would have prepared everything for him already. Noctis didn’t need to remember the details of his seventeenth birthday to know that. This was easy. He could do this.

The elevator dinged one last time, signaling his arrival, and Noctis stepped out. The Crownsguards stationed outside bowed to him. He distantly remembered their faces—two more faces he hadn’t seen in more than ten years. But before he could end up pondering on the past for any longer, Noctis made his way to his suite. He could do this. Yeah. Go straight, turn left at the corner, and—Ignis.

_Shit._

“Oh, Highness, I was just about to come looking for you.” Ignis was halfway out the door of Noctis’s room and coming his way. “It's good you made it in time.”

Noctis's stomach made a flip.

Ignis. Oh gods, Ignis was here. Ignis, who was looking straight at Noctis, _seeing_ him. Even from the slight distance, Noctis could make out his little half-smile. He had seen that smile in different variations over the years; sometimes it served as a professional façade, sometimes it was private and genuine, but nonetheless, it was so very much _Ignis_.

But what Noctis couldn’t tear himself away from were the eyes.

The last time he’d been with his advisor—only some hours earlier, actually—Ignis’s eyes had been unseeing and his face marred by scars. The memory of that face crept into Noctis’s mind as he stared.

Ignis seemed baffled, perhaps even slightly irritated, at being stared at. “Is something the matter?”

No, nothing was. There was _nothing_. No scars, only his glasses—spectacles—innocently sat on his nose, reminding Noctis of one thing, one person’s well-being that could have been saved if he'd been stronger. A painful cold settled in Noctis’s chest.

_If only this were real…_

He crushed that thought before it could take root. This wasn’t real and he shouldn’t dare pretend. The _real_ Ignis was fucking _blind_ because of him. He'd sacrificed himself for Noctis, for the ‘greater battle’.

“Noct? What is it?” Now a frown had settled itself on Ignis’s brow. No doubt he was starting to worry.

Noctis realized that he was expected to say something. “Sorry… I… Let’s just, go inside?”

A beat of silence, and then, “Right. Let’s.” Ignis held the door open for him. Once inside, Noctis was greeted with the nostalgic sight of his old room.

The door closed behind them, and Ignis didn’t wait long to pester him with questions—once a mother hen, always a mother hen. He was probably going through all the possibilities of what could have happened with that crazy brain of his. “What’s wrong, Noct? You look…troubled. Did something happen?”

 _Yes._ But that would be way too complicated of a story to tell this past version of his friend. “No, I'm fine, sorry.” Noctis averted his eyes, trying to think of a way to get Ignis off his case. “Just…nervous about today, y’know?”

“Is that so…” The frown didn’t leave Ignis's face.

“I just... All these people will be there. What if I screw up?” The ceremony honestly was the last thing on Noctis's mind right now, but it would make a good excuse.

Ignis's gaze softened somewhat; he seemed more convinced now. After all, he was no stranger to Noctis’s self-doubt, even though Noctis had always tried his best to hide it. A stab of guilt struck him for having lied to his oldest friend—even if that friend only was some kind of memory fragment.

“I see. I can imagine you’d prefer to spend your birthday in a bit more…relaxing setting. But I assure you, you’ll do just fine.” Ignis’s sympathetic reply only worsened the guilt, his mouth curved into something that no doubt was meant to be an encouraging smile. “You are the rightful heir, after all. Besides, from what I’ve gleaned by reading through the protocols of the past ceremonies, it will be over within minutes.”

“Guess you’re right.”

“When am I not?”

They exchanged a brief grin, and Noctis hoped the conversation was over now.

Thankfully, Ignis seemed to let the subject go for the time being. “Well, how about you get changed into your suit now? It's hanging on the cloak rack.”

Right. He’d completely forgotten about the suit. “Yeah, sure,” he said, making his way towards the walk-in closet.

“Take your time.”

Inwardly, Noctis was grateful for the opportunity to get away from Ignis, his unscarred face, and _all this_. Any form of distraction was welcome, really. He left the sliding door of the closet slightly ajar, though. It didn’t feel right to close Ignis off completely, either. Besides, he _might_ need help with the tie later.

He turned his attention to where the suit was neatly hanging. He could do this.

While Noctis was getting dressed, Ignis did his own thing, walking about in the main room. His busy steps resounded on the floor.

The steps halted for a moment, and Ignis’s accented voice filtered through the door. “Still, you do seem a bit out of sorts today, Noct.” There was a note of caution in his voice.

Noctis stiffened only halfway through the process of slipping into his slacks. Of course _,_ Ignis wouldn’t let the matter rest. He sighed, and finished pulling his slacks up a with a little too much force.

“If, by any chance, it is the increase in royal responsibilities that had you worried—let me assure you, there’s no cause for concern,” Ignis continued. “I was briefed on the matter. The level of your responsibilities will increase at a reasonable rate so that enough time remains for other endeavors such as your school work. After all, everyone is aware that you’re in your last year of high school.“ 

Everyone but him, as it seemed. Noctis surely didn’t feel like a high school student.

“I know, Specs. It’s fine,” Noctis said, trying to sound dismissive.

He fastened up his jacket in record time, wanting to get this over with quickly. Couldn’t the afterlife have chosen a day without suits and pompousness? Thankfully, only the tie was left now. He cleared his throat and called out toward the door, “Uh, give me a hand with the tie?”

“Certainly,” Ignis called back.

He entered the closet shortly after and eyed Noctis up and down. With a click of his tongue—when would anything ever be to Ignis’s satisfaction?—he stepped closer, and got to work the tie around Noctis’s neck.

What happened earlier still seemed to be on his advisor’s mind, though. He was pressing his lips together into a tight line, clearly contemplating whether or not to say something.

Noctis counted the seconds.

“Just one thing I want you to bear in mind, Noct.”

Damn this guy and his persistence.

“I don’t wholly understand what it is that’s weighing you down, and perhaps it’s none of my business, but…” Ignis looked down, his eyes meeting Noctis’s. “Please know that I’m always here to support you. You’re not alone.”

Noctis heart skipped a beat. Ignis’s green eyes were clear with sincerity. Whether clear and sharp like they were now or dulled with blindness, these were the eyes of the man who was willing to sacrifice everything for his future king.

“Thanks, Ignis,” Noctis managed to choke out.

All of a sudden, Noctis felt the urge to tell him. To tell Ignis everything. He felt the burning need to know. To know how the Ignis of his past would think about their future. What would he think, what would he _do_ if he had the knowledge of what was to come? Would he decide to stay at Noctis’s side no matter what or would he choose a happier path for himself? Because following Noctis obviously wouldn’t bring him much happiness.

He wanted to know. Knowing wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t relieve him of his guilt. But he still wanted to know.

His heart beat against his ribcage in anticipation. He would tell Ignis.

Ignis, meanwhile, was back to adjusting Noctis’s tie around his neck. “Almost done here.”

“Great, thanks.” Yeah, he was going to tell Ignis. But where should he even begin?

“There’s still sufficient time for preparation. Why not see to your hair?“

“Mh-hm,” Noctis hummed absentmindedly. Wouldn’t all this sound way too crazy, though? ‘Hey Iggy, I’m dead and this is my afterlife, but I wanna tell you about what your older you and I went through together in the future. He’s—I mean you’re—blind by the way. You’ll be fine with that?’ No. Fucking. Way. Ugh.

“It could use some grooming, don’t you agree?”

“Uh-huh.” Maybe he should go about it differently. Start vague and feel out how Ignis would react? That sounded—

“Are you listening, Noct?”

—better. Hm? “Uh, what?”

Ignis expelled a breath, or was it a snort? “Your hair, Noct. It’s… Do you intend to keep it like this for the ceremony?”

“Oh.” Was it _that_ bad? His hair honestly was the last thing on his mind right now. Getting into that suit had been enough work as it was. And just the thought of looking into a mirror—no doubt would he die of a heart attack from his stupid seventeen-year-old face looking back at him. Good thing he was dead already. “Guess I don’t really feel like doing much with it today?”

“This is a first.” Ignis’s startled face was hilarious, brows high and mouth slightly agape. “But we certainly can’t have you attend the ceremony in this unkempt state. If I may…?”

“Um, okay.” If Noctis’s mind hadn’t been so cluttered, he would’ve thought twice about having someone else do his hair, even if that someone was his trusted chamberlain. Then again, Noctis’s ‘little’ hair obsession had found its eventual end during his ten-year-long slumber, and now he couldn’t find himself caring much anymore.

“Very well.” Ignis still looked as if he didn’t believe what was happening—who could fault the guy?—but he strode over to the dresser where Noctis would keep all kinds of products in case he stayed over at his Citadel room, and retrieved a few things.

While Ignis busied himself with Noctis’s hair, Noctis decided now was the moment. He would tell Ignis. _Remember, begin vaguely and wait to see how Iggy reacts. Don’t screw up._

“Hey, Specs?”

“Yes?”

“Uh—Just wondering. All hypothetical and all. What would you say if—” Noctis fell short on words for a moment, but eventually found his voice. “What would you do if you knew there would be no Insomnia left in some years? Or maybe even no Lucis? Would you…stay here? I mean, just imagine Insomnia—Lucis—will end up destroyed by the empire?” _Or something worse_ , he added mentally.

Ignis was silent, his brows drawn into a frown, studying Noctis’s face as if it could give him the answer to today’s Insomnia Times crossword puzzle.

Damn, why was Noctis so bad with words? He’d said it all wrong.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ignis cleared his throat and asked, “What brought this on, Noct?”

Noctis fumbled with his sleeves, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Is it that hard to imagine?”

“Well, no, it _is_ a potential outcome of the war, that is if the Wall doesn’t hold or harm befalls His Majesty. Or you. Still, why are you asking me this?”

“Just saying. I mean—I was born into this position and as the next one in line, my life is kind of set, but _you_ could leave and have another life if you wanted, right?”

Another beat of silence. And then...

Ignis barked out a laugh, deep and rich. It came so unexpected that Noctis was positively dumb-struck. “Wh-what’s so funny?”

“Nothing, Noct.” Despite saying this, Ignis still seemed to have a hard time calming himself down, a big smile tugging on his lips. “Nothing is. This just came unexpectedly. And I must admit I find it quite sweet of you to worry about me.”

Noctis felt his face reddening. Damn, this was taking an embarrassing direction.

“I would like to think that my answer is self-explanatory. But if you really must hear it: my place is right where I want it to be, all risks and possibilities considered. You should know me well enough to know that.”

Of course, he knew. “I know, just… You were so young when you came here and...” Before he knew it, Noctis blurted out, “And what if your life wouldn’t take a pretty turn if you stayed? Like, I dunno, like somethin’ bad would happen and—”

Damn, damn, damn. He was so stupid.

Ignis watched him for a moment, face taut with concentration. Then he sighed. ”Be honest with me, Noct. What brought this on? A nightmare, perhaps? Is this what has you all worked up today?”

Now or never. “Well—"

A thump of a knock made both of them jump, breaking into the intense atmosphere. Gladio strode in immediately after, donning his Crownsguard uniform. Damn his timing. “Hey, you done here?”

Ignis, seemingly having composed himself already, gave Noctis a meaningful look, clearly saying ‘this conversation isn’t over yet’, before he glimpsed at his watch and, realizing the time, started fiddling with Noctis’s hair again. “Just another moment.”

“Wait, what am I seein’ here? Noct, you let Iggy touch your hair?”

“I was perplexed myself, I assure you. But I’m afraid his hair was in dire need of saving.”

Gladio stared at them as if not quite certain what to make of them. Noctis couldn’t blame him. The situation _was_ kind of ridiculous.

“Too tired, I guess?” Noctis said and gave a fake yawn, hoping that would serve as enough of an explanation.

“Damn, you get lazier by each year, and you’re only seventeen yet. I tell ya, Iggy, by the time he’s king, he’ll sleep through the whole freakin’ day and leave all the work to us.”

“Come now Gladio, that’s been my daily experience for the past several years.”

 _Traitor_ , Noctis wanted to scream.

“Good point,” Gladio flashed a grin at them, then addressed Noctis. ”You do know you’ll have to wake up bright an’ early from now on, though? Can’t miss the council meetings, can we Your Laziness?”  

“Don’t remind me.” Noctis wanted to wipe the shit-eating grin from Gladio’s face.

Gladio didn’t seem to be done yet, though. “You gotta get used to it and man it up, Noct. You’re an adult now.” His voice shifted to a playful tone. “Or at least people will treat you like one now.”

“I wonder,” Noctis said honestly. Everyone had mostly treated him the same after his coming of age. He himself had been surprised at that. After all, the ceremony was all about the heir to the throne to acquire the legal capacity for political involvement—earlier than any other crown citizen. So, of course, he’d expected a different kind of treatment. But aside from the duty to join in on more council meetings, or the occasional charity event and other official business where he represented the crown, not much had changed.

Plus, this ‘privilege’ didn’t even allow him to enjoy the _good_ parts about being an adult. “And ’s not like I’ll be allowed to drink or somethin’ yet. Adult my ass,” he added out of spite because he still was mad about that fact. Why make him deal with all the responsibilities of an adult earlier than anyone else, but leave out the good things?

“Well, how’s about we make an exception just for this one special occasion?” Gladio’s grin looked as mischievous as that of a goblin. “Want me to bring the best stuff over to your place after your fancy dinner with His Majesty?”

“No, that won’t do, Gladiolus,” Ignis butted in, giving Gladio a warning look. “Noct will have to wait like everyone else until his eighteenth birthday to indulge in drinking.”

“Oh, c’mon now, Iggy. Not even _you_ waited that long. And seriously, who even made up this royalty coming of age early thing and didn't include the fun stuff?"

Ignis cleared his throat as if preparing himself for a speech. Wait, he wouldn’t, right? Oh no, he _would_. Noctis still remembered just how elaborate and long-winded Ignis’s lectures could get back when he had been trying to shape up Noctis’s political knowledge. Noctis didn’t like them then, though with time, he'd learned to appreciate them more. But he knew where this was going: a twenty-minute-long lecture about King Verus CIX and how he modernized the Council from inside out.

“Since you’re asking so nicely, Gladio, King Verus CIX was a most capable and competent ruler and his reign was characterized by the modernization and reshaping of the Council in all aspects of decision-making including governance, advocacy, power-balancing between King and councilors, co—”

“Codes of conduct, communication with the citizens, and _never_ to forget, spending and accounts. Geez, Specs, no history lessons on my birthday please?”

The hand in his hair stilled. Ignis looked at him in utter disbelief. Damn, did Noctis go too far again?

To Ignis’s credit, he didn’t comment on it, though, and instead gave an embarrassed cough. “Apologies.”

“Woah, who would’ve thought, Iggy? Seems like your lectures finally took effect.” Gladio whistled.

Noctis couldn’t help letting out a snort at that, which soon morphed into a stupid sounding laugh that betrayed his happiness. Gods, it was just so good to be back with his friends. 

Ignis and Gladio joined in. Their eyes were bright with delight and they looked so young it hurt.

After they had shared a good laugh, Gladio asked Ignis, “Anyway, don’t ya think you’ve done enough with Noct’s hair now?”

Ignis hummed, examining his handiwork. He was such a perfectionist. Noctis didn’t really care how it looked. He’d trust Ignis not to embarrass him. “Indeed, this should suffice,” he said before he cast another glance at his watch. “And it’s about time, too. Let’s see His Highness to the Crystal Chamber, shall we then?  

“Right. You ready, Noct?”

 _Ready for what_? Noctis wondered. The young faces of his friends looked down at Noctis, expectantly and completely oblivious of what would lay in store for them in the future.

That nagging thought kept coming back. The little thought that said _what if—_ what if this isn’t the afterlife _?_ What if this is real, what if he somehow ended up in the past instead of being dead? After all, all of this felt so damn _real_. His friends were way too real in how they behaved. Everything was the same but also different from how he remembered his seventeenth birthday. So what if—

_No, this is the afterlife. It has to be._

Noctis knew what to do. He would get that ceremony behind him so that he could spend quality time with his dad and his friends here until the afterlife would decide to let him…move on, or whatever came after this.

He straightened his back and nodded to his friends.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

 

* * *

 

Due to the Crystal’s involvement, the ceremony was held in close quarters with only the high-ranked members of the Crownsguard present. When the three of them entered the chamber, only his dad, Clarus, and Cor seemed to be missing. Everyone bowed to him, but otherwise quietly kept to their assigned positions in the corners of the room, solemn in the presence of the Crystal.

The Crystal Chamber was every bit as magnificent as Noctis remembered. It was eerie in a way, with the only light in the room deriving from the dim glow of the Crystal.

Noctis could count the times he had been in this room on one hand. His dad seemed to hate him being anywhere near the Crystal even when he’d been a kid. Standing as close to it like now was an exception, and his father most likely only allowed it because the coming of age ceremony was a set tradition.

Of course, Noctis knew by now why his dad had wanted him as far away from the Crystal as possible.

The sound of several sets of footsteps approaching the chamber pulled Noctis out of his musings, the clicking sound of his dad’s cane among them unmistakable.

Gods, he was going to see his dad.

His heart started hammering hard in his chest. Here in the silence of the chamber, surely everyone could hear how loud his heart was pounding.

The moment the king set foot in the chamber, the room went even quieter—if that was even possible. Hand to chest, the Crownsguards immediately bowed to their king. But to Noctis, it wasn’t the King of Lucis, but _Dad_ who entered the room.

His father’s eyes immediately found his, and with uneven steps, he made his way towards Noctis. Noctis felt the urge to run up to him and let himself be enveloped in the protective embrace of his dad, but he knew here and now was not the time and place for that.

 _After the ceremony_ , he promised himself. They’d have a proper talk then. Right now, it was good enough to see his dad alive and breathing. Still, he quickly went up to meet him halfway, aware of his physical struggles.

Despite the cane, Dad didn’t look as weak and weary as the last time Noctis had seen him right before he left for his journey. It was horrifying what the pull of the ring had done to his dad in only three years of time. How much longer would he have lived if he hadn’t been killed during the treaty signings?

A warm hand landed on his shoulder. “Noct. Happy Birthday.” His dad’s eyes wrinkled in the corners, his eyes full of warmth.

“Dad,” Noctis choked out in reply. He was at a loss for words, feeling overwhelmed by the realization that it was his dad standing in front of him, one of the people he’d never expected to see again.

“I am looking forward to our dinner after this. Let us talk then.”

Noctis nodded to his dad and turned around—before he’d get too emotional. He returned to his place and waited for the ceremony to begin.

He remembered the procedure. It had played out exactly like Ignis told him, quick and uneventful. He didn’t have to do anything, just stand in front of the Crystal and wait for it to acknowledge him, to shed its light on him. The Crystal’s powers already had been with him since his birth, but it was the first time he had felt so close and connected to it.

Noctis had been full of fear then. He’d feared that he wasn’t good enough. That the Crystal would find fault with him. That it would reject him.

And at the same time, he’d been afraid of the opposite outcome—the Crystal’s approval. Because that would set in stone what he’d dreaded for years. To lose his dad and to be forced to follow in his footsteps, to have the future of the whole kingdom resting on his shoulders. Noctis had known just by watching his dad withering away, by literally watching his life force being eaten away to sustain the Wall, that his dad could die any day. And that the throne and the burden that came along with it would be passed on to him then. He had known, but it had left him with many fitful nights all the same.

Now though, after everything that had happened, all these fears seemed stupid and irrelevant.

He straightened his back.

As soon as his father gave him his signal, he stepped forward. The whole chamber was veiled in silence. The sound of his dress shoes echoing off the walls was the only disturbance in a room where everyone held their breath as if expelling it would enrage the gods themselves.

Once he was close enough to see the light pulsating beneath the crystalline skin, Noctis waited, the pulse of the Crystal calming him.

He felt the seconds ticking by, but he wasn’t worried. Any moment the Crystal would bestow its light on him. After all, he was the Chosen King—if that wasn’t assurance enough, he didn’t know what was. Well, maybe the fact that he had gone through this experience once, already? Great, double assurance.

And besides, this was the afterlife. Whatever happened here wouldn’t have any consequences. This merely was some kind of memory Noctis had come to revisit. So he waited, never having felt as confident as at that very moment.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear a too-long-held-breath being expelled. Wow, someone must have held it back until now. Other than that, the silence continued on. He waited. He could hear feet shuffling. It seemed Noctis wasn’t the only one growing impatient. Someone cleared his throat. He waited. Still, nothing happened. The Crystal remained the same. Did he make out whispering behind him? Rude.

Had it taken that long last time around, though?

Something wasn’t quite right. Throat dry with tension and sweat building on his brow, Noctis waited. All he could do was wait.

But nothing happened.

He dared to take a peek towards his father. He couldn’t quite discern the expression on his face, but he didn’t like what he saw.

The whispering and shuffling and throat-clearing and breathing started to drive him mad.

Something was wrong. Really, really, wrong.

Another cough behind him.

Noctis decided he had enough.

He strode the last couple of steps forward and extended his hand toward the Crystal. Gasps sounded from the onlookers, but Noctis chose to ignore them. Instead, he concentrated on the Crystal. Its surface felt as cold and smooth as the last time Noctis had touched the stone. That time, he’d been filled with panic and tried to fight the connection. Now he felt ready.

Would it work without the ring, though?

He searched for the connection, finding it, and blinked once. The stone gave out beneath his hand, his arm sinking into it. He blinked again.

Before he knew it, Noctis could feel his consciousness floating in the blues and blacks of the Crystal’s realm. Bahamut was towering over him, his presence as pervasive as ever.

All tension left Noctis. The Crystal had reacted to him; everything would be okay. He probably should’ve been more patient and waited a little longer—

A hammering voice threatened to split Noctis’s head in two. _“He who betrayed our kind dares to step foot on Sacred Grounds.”_

Even with his head a throbbing mess, Noctis could conclude that he didn’t like the sound of that.

“I… what? I don’t understand,” he managed to croak out. “Be-betrayed?”

 _“It is no longer ordained,”_ Bahamut said in a tone that chilled Noctis to his bones. _“The King of Kings has chosen to tread the path of perfidy and refused to ascend beyond the mortal realm. By fulfilling his calling, stability would be restored to our star, yet he favored his earthly greed to live.”_ The rage in his voice built by each word. _“To times past he fled and believed he would escape our notice!”_

Bahamut’s words couldn’t be any clearer, but to Noctis’s ears, no single one of them made sense. Was Bahamut saying what Noctis was thinking? That he… no.

There was something accumulating in Noctis’s middle where his Crystal magic resided, the sensation changing from hot to cold in waves and growing bigger and bigger.

 _“Tell me, Chosen King,”_ he spat out Noctis’s title as if it was a curse. “ _How is this profanity different from the Usurper’s sins? Is it immortality you seek? Not even the power of the Six can send you back to your time, thus only one other way remains. Before another Accursed is born, the Chosen’s connection to the Crystal shall be severed.”_

“What? No, this got to be a mistake! I didn’t do anyth—”

Bahamut didn’t give him a chance to reason with him. _“Arguing against the Bladekeeper’s word is futile. The calling of the True King is no longer this mortal’s to fulfill.”_

That something in Noctis’s middle grew. His magic became a monster, angry and flailing around, screaming to be released. Never before had his magic felt this wild. With all these sensations waging inside him, Noctis had trouble keeping his magic back from lashing out at Bahamut.

He’d try to persuade the Astral with words instead, make him see that this was just a big, horrible misunderstanding. “You can’t do this! What did _I_ do? I did as I was told! Didn’t I do as I was meant to do?!“

The Astral didn’t appear fazed. _“He is claiming his innocence, yet the proof of his treason is right in front of my eyes. ‘Many sacrificed all for the King; so must the King sacrifice himself for all,’ so the prophecy decreed. Still here he stands alive, soul and memory from a time that has not yet occurred. I see but a pathetic mortal who dares to defy the natural order of All Creation. What insolence!”_

The cry of outrage almost made his eardrums burst.

Noctis was beyond rational thought. He only knew two things: one, this was not good, two, he had to stop Bahamut. The Astral really was going to go through with this. But his guts felt like lead and his head dizzy with pain and magic.

That monster ravaging in him became louder, screaming and cursing at Bahamut, demanding to have him torn to shreds for _his_ insolence.

“But I didn’t do anything! You can’t just do this! And what about the scourge? What about the people?! Who will banish the darkness then?! Someone has to or—!” Didn’t Bahamut see reason? Didn’t he see what was at stake? It didn’t make sense!

Bahamut, though, ignored Noctis’s protests. He summoned a sword, raising the enormous length of it high above them, and stilled in his movement for a second. Noctis watched the sword, petrified. He wouldn’t do it, right? Bahamut wouldn’t—

The sword came down on him, it would hit any moment—

“Wait! Listen to me! You can’t—!” But the blade couldn’t be stopped. When it struck, at first he felt like he was frozen over by one of his strongest blizzaga spells, but then the coldness cracked away to a searing burn, curling around something inside him, and slowly wrenching it out of him. His magic. It was pulling away from him, leaving him.

No. “No, no, nonono.” Noctis ignored the pain, begging for his magic to come back, but it only went farther and farther away. “No, pleasenogodsno!” It was too late for begging, though. He already felt his connection to the Crystal dissipating. Everything around him lost its clarity and color and sensation. Where his magic had been close to exploding a moment earlier, now there was emptiness. Noctis felt as if someone had opened him up, scraped out his guts, and closed him up again. Was he expected to live with this feeling from now on? If yes, then he didn't know if he'd survive this. He felt so numb, and so, so empty.

The last thing he perceived before he was taken back to the Citadel was Bahamut’s cold and unforgiving voice. _“Let the Betrayer of our kind confront the repercussions of his sin by watching from the sidelines. This shall be his punishment.”_

Back in the Crystal Chamber, Noctis stood in horror and realization.

It finally dawned on him.

This wasn’t the afterlife. This was real. This was too real. He didn’t know why he was here. Hell, he wasn’t supposed to be here. But this was not the afterlife. For some reason, he was back in the past and everything was…everything was fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the nice response to chapter one. :) I hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
> I experienced some trouble with uploading chapter two. It ended up several pages back, so I had to delete and reupload it again. Dear Subscribers, I hope you didn't get several annoying emails because of that. :)
> 
> Big shout-out to my wonderful beta readers [Kitsune138](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsune138/pseuds/Kitsune138) and [Poshu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poshu/pseuds/Poshu)! I’m so lucky to have you!  
>    
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> [twitter](https://twitter.com/oyashiran)  
> 


	3. The Good Chamberlain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry the update took me this long! I don't seem to be able to manage real life and several stories at one time, but I'm back to only this fic now so the updates will be out quicker.  
> The last two chapters were written from Noct's perspective to get the plot running. Now, I'm slowly going to introduce the other bros' perspectives to the story, starting with Ignis. :)

If there was one thing Ignis loathed more than anything else, it was not being in the know. That meant being  _unprepared_ , and thereby not being of any help to his prince.

As he stood in front of the Council Chamber and waited for the minutes and hours to pass, that unnerving sense of inadequacy grew only stronger.

Yesterday, Noct had undergone his coming of age ceremony. Suit pressed to perfection and head held high, and the prince hadn't given Ignis the slightest need for concern. No, he certainly hadn't been prepared for this shocking outcome—for the Crystal not to shed its light on Noct.

Just what on Eos had gone wrong?

The King had ushered Noct away before he could talk to him and find out, and then Ignis was instructed to wait until further notice. He had been restless throughout the whole night, waiting in vain for anyone to contact him. Come morning, the waiting became unbearable. He  _needed_  to know what was going on.

Which brought him here.

As far as he had deduced, everyone of importance was inside the chamber, having been called to an emergency meeting right in the early morning hours—no doubt discussing yesterday's disastrous events and their consequences. The King himself, his advisors, the whole council, and the highest ranked Crownsguard and Kingsglaive members were there. Not Noct, though. He was in his personal suite, alone and no doubt waiting for the meeting to end and a decision to be made. Nor Ignis. He, too, had been denied entrance.

Hence, he resorted to waiting outside in front of the chamber.

A hefty smack to his shoulder caught Ignis off guard, making him flinch involuntarily.

"Hey, Iggy," Gladio greeted, coming up beside him.

"Gladio." Just how deep in thought had he been not to notice the shield's approach? Not that it was a surprise to see him here. Of course, his friend wasn't patient enough to wait this meeting out, either. "It appears we had the same idea to come here," he said, composed again.

"Guess so. And how long have you been waitin' here and staring holes into the door?"

An unintentional sigh left him. "Too long. I came here in the hopes of finding out  _something_. So far…I can't say I've been successful. No one has come out yet… nor was I allowed entry."

If the glaives standing guard at the chamber noticed the spiteful ring to his voice, he didn't have a semblance left to care.  _"We don't have permission to allow anyone inside, sir. Please direct your request to the right authority, sir,"_  had come the mechanical reply from them when he asked to be let inside this morning. It was closing in on noon now and they hadn't budged an inch.

It was too odd. There rarely was a meeting he missed out on or wasn't allowed to take part in. He shouldn't be excluded from this, he should be sitting  _in there_  right now.

"No kidding," came Gladio's belated response. "I tried to convince Dad to let me join in, but he wouldn't have it. Don't even get  _why_. Why are  _we_ kept out of the loop here when it's all about  _our_  charge?" The frustration in his voice was palpable.

"Indeed." For once, Ignis wholeheartedly agreed with Gladio in something, considering they often had to agree on disagreeing when it came to matters concerning Noct.

Gladio looked back at the door, staring it down as if it could break open at his will. "Just what the hell's even goin' on in there?"

Muffled voices were rising from behind the closed door. Ignis strained to catch what they said, but only a few words made it through, and not enough to make any sense of it. It was apparent, however, that a heated discussion was taking place.

Were they determining Noct's—and ultimately, this kingdom's—future right about now? Although he already feared for the worst, Ignis still wanted to believe that all this was a great misunderstanding. Because frankly, it didn't make sense. As far as Ignis had gathered from protocols of past coming of age ceremonies, and assured Noct of only yesterday, this had never happened to a rightful heir to the throne before. And wasn't Noct the so-called Chosen of the Crystal? Surely, that had to mean something.

Yes, even if something had gone wrong at yesterday's ceremony, it would be impetuous for the council to make any drastic decisions about Noct's position and the future of Lucis. Ignis wanted to believe in that.

He was about to verbalize his thoughts when the door to the Council Chamber opened with a resounding echo. Ignis felt his pulse quicken.

Now that the door stood open—even if only for a few seconds—all sounds from inside filtered out, clear to his ears. He made out the sharp and hard voice that couldn't belong to anyone else but Captain Drautos.

"—y all respect, Your Majesty, a Lucis Caelum without powers is as good as a commoner. The Wall is our last defense—"

The door closed again, shutting out whatever else the Captain of the Kingsglaive would continue to say.

Ignis's inward cursing at the man's words and what they could mean to Noct came to a stop, however, when his attention was drawn away by the person who came through the door, and for once he felt as if he was in luck.

Because his  _uncle_  of all people couldn't just ignore him.

"Ignis, Young Master Gladiolus—what has brought you here?" his uncle greeted them, and if Ignis didn't know him so well, he wouldn't have caught the tightness in his voice and shoulders. Whatever was talked about in there was affecting him, too.

"Uncle, please tell me what outcome to expect."

"Yeah, we need to know what's going on, Mr. Scientia."

His uncle gave them a tired smile. "Unfortunately, my hands are bound. As you can see, the meeting is still in closed session. Besides..." He leveled a look at Ignis, an expression usually reserved for those rare occasions in which his nephew gave him reason to criticize him. "Pray tell, Ignis, what are you even doing here? Aren't you needed elsewhere?" he asked, the meaning behind his question clear to Ignis.

Then, as if remembering why he left the meeting—probably to retrieve something—his uncle muttered some hasty words of goodbye and disappeared down the corridor.

Ignis pinched his nose, contemplating his uncle's words. Of course, in a way, he was right. What had Ignis even achieved by coming here? Nothing.

Then again, it wasn't as if Noct had wanted to see him this morning. When he had come to see how the prince was doing, he seemed uncomfortable in Ignis's presence, soon asking to be left alone. Would he accept his company now?

Gladio's voice pulled him out of his musings. "Dammit. Looks like we won't get anythin' out of him. Or anyone at that," he grumbled. "But did you hear the bullshit Drautos said? Noct, no powers? Tch, as if a glaive who merely borrows his magic from the King understands anythin' about how royal magic really works."

Although Ignis had to disagree with the latter sentiment—after all, they, too, would soon start to borrow their magic from Noct—it was right that the captain tended to voice quite extreme opinions, especially concerning Noct's capabilities.

Somehow, instinct told Ignis that he shouldn't be too optimistic about the outcome of today's impromptu meeting, though. He still had clung to the hope that all they were discussing was a new date for another attempt of the ceremony, but if he were honest with himself, he knew it was more serious; otherwise, he wouldn't have been denied entry to the conference to begin with.

Dread seeped into his bones. Closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath, he tried to keep his cool, to will all hindering thoughts and emotions away. Yes, he had to pull himself together. If not for himself, then for Noct.

Feeling calmer already, he redirected his attention to Gladio. "It appears there's nothing we can do here. All we know for now amounts to nothing more than conjecture." He made a decision. "And Uncle is right. I should go and see how Noct is doing. Care to join me?" he asked Gladio.

"What? To throw him a pity party?" Gladio said although Ignis knew it was just a joke. Gladio seemed to be considering the offer in earnest. "No, 's fine," he said eventually. "You take care of that. I'll see if I get something out of the glaives. Heard they pick up all kinds of stories faster than anyone."

"Very well." That was fine with him. Ignis believed Gladio's presence wouldn't be the greatest benefit in handling a distraught prince right now, anyway.

They parted their ways, but Ignis halted midway to Noct's suite, glancing down at his watch. It was shortly before noon. Even if Noct didn't want any company, he would need to eat something. It was right about time for lunch preparations.

He turned around, starting toward the kitchen and steering himself through the hallways of the Citadel that seemed a tad more chaotic and foreign to him today. If the chefs hadn’t prepared the prince’s lunch yet, he would do the deed of cooking it himself.

Maybe, one of his favorite dishes would lift Noct’s spirits.

And maybe, some cooking would also help calm his own nerves.

 

* * *

 

Noctis hadn't slept a wink.

After his dad left him alone for the night, telling him to stay put until he'd come for him again, he'd sat on his bed in the silence of his old room and trying to figure out what exactly had happened in the past twenty-four or so hours.

As the sun had risen over Insomnia, signaling the beginning of a new day, he still hadn't come close to an answer. At that point, he was a sleep-deprived mess, only capable of counting the beats of his pulse to reassure himself that he was really here, that this was  _real_. Because if it were, it meant...

Time travel.

 _No goddamn way_  had been Noctis's initial reaction to that idea. But all Bahamut had said pointed right in that direction.

Why, though? That's what he couldn't find an explanation for.

He had been ready to die. Heck, as far as he could trust his memory, he did die. The memory of absolute torture, of the royal arms diving into his chest still was too fresh, the phantom pain making his heart skip a beat on occasion. Yep, he definitely died then. But instead of moving on he ended up here, he'd traveled through time, thirteen years back to his seventeenth birthday.

Only for the Crystal to reject him? It didn't make sense.

Something was at work here, something was at work against  _him_. That was all he could conclude for now.

Traitor, Bahamut had called him.

How ironic, Noctis thought, that he who had been nothing more than a sacrificial lamb to bring back the dawn to Eos, he who had done nothing but dance to the Astrals' every whim, would be called a  _traitor_.

Why would Bahamut think that he of all people had betrayed them? That he somehow made his way to this timeline on his own will? Or that he even had the power and knowledge to pull it off? A snort left him. Even  _if_  he knew how it worked, why would he even want to go back in time?

The tiny but persistent voice in his head whispered to him that he was lying to himself. How often after the Fall of Insomnia,  _after Altissia_ , had he entertained fantasies of going back in time and fix everything that had gone wrong?

Still, all that had been wishful thinking, no more than that, and it didn't answer his question. Just how the hell did he end up here?

Noctis shook his head, realizing how his thoughts were going around in circles. What he needed to do now was to find a way to fix this. He needed to talk to his dad and find out what was going to happen to him now.

He had enough of this, enough of sitting around and waiting, leaving his own decisions to others. He had waited enough.

Noctis stood from his still-made bed to leave the room and go find his dad—who was no doubt busy taking care of his mess. As he always used to.

* * *

The hallway leading to the Council Chamber was deserted, except for the two glaives standing guard at the door. They stood rigid, guarding the door as if their life depended on it. So the meeting was still in full session.

How long had they been discussing him in there, how long had his dad been defending his disappointment of a son? He was in two minds: He wanted to talk with Dad  _now_ , but would he make things worse for him by barging in there?  _Could_  things get worse at this point, though?

 _Screw it_ , decided Noctis before he could think it over. He headed straight towards the doors, throwing them open and ignoring the guards' protests.

It was almost comical how each and every head in the room turned towards him, nearly in unison with each other. No one said a word. No doubt they were scrutinizing him,  _judging_  him. Noctis didn't care. He only cared about the gaze of his dad, and whether he'd find judgment in there, too.

Finally, someone broke the silence that had come over the room after his entrance. "Your Highness, what brings you here?" Mr. Scientia was the one to ask.

"I need to speak with—" He swallowed. He almost said 'Dad'. "—His Majesty."

Dad, sitting at the top of the long conference table, looked tired and drawn when he acknowledged him. "Noctis. Now is not the time." His voice sounded as exhausted as he looked and a spike of guilt shot through Noctis, knowing he was the cause of it.

"Oh, but why?" said Titus Drautos from where he stood close to the top of the table.

Noctis remembered Drautos well enough. Like most of the Kingsglaive members, he, too, must have died during the Fall of Insomnia, as Noctis had never heard anything about him after it. He'd always been a loyal man to his father, thus also earning Noctis's respect.

Drautos continued, "I thought we were right about done, or did you have something else to add, Your Majesty?"

His dad sighed, sagging into himself. He didn't look good. Again, Noctis couldn't help but think how this was his fault. "No, Titus, I believe we are quite finished here. Will you be all so kind as to give the two of us some privacy?" he directed the question at everyone in the room.

The remaining councilmen and advisors, even Clarus and Cor, were quick to filter out of the chamber, leaving Noctis and his dad alone.

"Let's sit down for this," his dad said, gesturing to a chair close to him.

Already dreading what was to come, Noctis sat down facing him. His father's strained expression revealed that this conversation wouldn't bring good news to him. Not that he'd expected as much.

"Noctis. I am so sorry," his dad began. "But I fear there is nothing that can be done." He looked deflated just from saying these words out loud. "Although I cannot even begin to understand why the Crystal—why Bahamut would choose to do this, his decision is final, and so is the council's."

Noctis's heart, hammering wildly, dropped. His stomach felt queasy.

It wasn't as if he hadn't expected this outcome, but he still felt overcome by the  _reality_  of this. No words of response escaped him. His dad must have noticed, so instead of waiting for Noctis to speak, he continued, "I can sense it. Your connection to the Crystal is severed and that is why you are not fit to be—" He winced at his own words and made to rephrase, "Without powers, you cannot be the next in line. You know very well why that is."

Of course, he knew. There were many reasons. The Wall, the Ring, and the Kingsglaive being the first ones to come to mind.

Finally, he managed to croak out the request that had been on his mind for the whole day. "Can't you speak to him? Ask him to reconsider?" He didn't need to put the name in his mouth. His dad knew who he was speaking of.

His dad sighed. "I did try, but he is resolute. Nor does he value the opinion of a mortal king very much," he spat out the last part, making his opinion of his own encounter with Bahamut clear to Noctis. "The same can be said about the Kings of Old. If you were to wear the Ring to prove yourself to them…I fear it would not go over well."

As in, he'd probably die because his forefathers wouldn't acknowledge him as the rightful bearer of the Ring, Noctis added in his mind.

Throat dry and constricted with anticipation, he waited because he knew there was more to come.

"The council presses to take away your title—the title of Crown Prince."

Yeah, it  _could_  get worse. If his stomach had felt queasy before, now he was nauseous. What did that even mean? Was he…disowned?

"You are still a prince of Lucis, Noctis, and you are still my son. That will never change," his dad assured him as if he could read his thoughts. "However, I—the council asks you not to engage in anything related to politics in the future. It is to make sure that no battle for the throne will ever occur."

"Battle for the, what?"

What the hell?

But then, he got it. If he'd lose his title as Crown Prince, it meant…someone else would gain it.

Dad looked at him as if he'd kicked a puppy and that the puppy he kicked was  _Noctis_. "We are going to find another suitable candidate to continue the line."

"Who…?" Was there even another real option?

"We have family—not as distant as you would assume—who is able to wield the magic of our bloodline. The most probable candidate is your second cousin, the son of my uncle." He must have noticed Noctis's confusion and added, "You've never met. They have kept their distance from the Crown."

Was his dad serious? This was wrong. There were too many reasons telling him that this wouldn't work out. He started to protest, "But—"

"Please, don't make this difficult, Noctis. It is…unexpected and most unfortunate, yet this is beyond my control. Besides," his dad continued hesitantly, "isn't this what you always wanted? I know that you never felt comfortable with the future laid out for you." There was no acid in his voice, but to Noctis, it still struck him like an accusation.

Perhaps, because in a way, Dad was right. When he had been a teenager, even when he'd been twenty and was departing for his journey to Altissia, he had dreaded the day he would become King. Despite that, he had known it was unavoidable and thus, accepted it.

It didn't feel right to throw the towel and let someone else take over now. Especially since he knew that this was  _wrong_ , that things weren't supposed to go this way. That something wasn't right with this timeline.

More than that, though, there were the prophecy and the starscourge to think of. Even if his second or third or fourth uncle or whoever else, would end up a fitting heir, they wouldn't magically turn into the new Chosen King and be able to banish the darkness…or would they? Noctis doubted it.

He couldn't just let this happen.

"But what about—" he stuttered, fighting through the lump in his throat, "what about the prophecy?"

His dad looked taken aback by that question, meeting Noctis's gaze with wide eyes. Noctis felt horrible for being the one to address the very subject he now knew his dad despised over everything.

"You needn't concern yourself with that anymore," came his dad's reply.

"But it  _is_  my concern, isn't it?" Noctis forced out because he knew better. He hated this topic as much as his dad did, but he knew just what was at stake. "I'm supposed to—" He was still stuttering. "If the prophecy won't be fulfilled—"

His father interrupted him, voice clipped. "I said it is not of your concern anymore, son."

He had his mask on now, the face of a sovereign who had taken center stage in the public eye for decades. The change was minimal and oh so subtle, but Noctis could see it in how his jaw hardened and in how his eyes lost their shine. He must have upset his dad with this—with mentioning the prophecy.

Noctis faltered. He should tell him. He should tell him about the future. That he knew what was going to happen and that he knew there was no running away from the darkness, from his responsibility.

Could he really do this to his dad? Tell him the truth? What good would it do to burden him with the knowledge that his son knew exactly what lay in store for him—or rather, what would have laid in store for him were it not for Bahamut's change of plans.

And more importantly, what would his dad do if he knew? He knew from experience that his father was prone to self-sacrifice. If telling him meant that he'd endanger himself for Noctis's sake somehow, then Noctis never ever wanted him to know the truth.

Or perhaps, he thought to himself, perhaps he was nothing but a coward, scared shitless of seeing the disappointment in his dad's face when he'd learn of his failure.

Because that's what it was, wasn't it? Somehow, he'd failed to fulfill the only thing he was meant to accomplish in his life, the only reason for his existence: dying to banish the darkness. If he was  _alive_  here, it meant his future probably still was blanketed in darkness.

So he left it at that and kept silent, hating himself and his cowardice.

No one spoke for a while. Noctis shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling the air in the chamber becoming thick and stifling.

Finally, his dad cleared his throat. "I remember when you were younger—eleven, or twelve, was it?" He chuckled. His eyes were soft again, the mask from earlier gone. "You came back from the training ground, telling me you wanted to become a member of the Kingsglaive once you were all grown up." His lips curled up in a mischievous grin. It was a refreshing sight. "The next year, you wanted to become a veterinarian, if I am not mistaken." Like an afterthought, he added, " _And_  I did know that you and Ignis were hiding that kitten away in the gardens, just so you know."

Noctis didn't know what to make of his dad's words. Was he suggesting to give up?

"What I am saying is," he continued, "don't view this as the end of it, Noctis. If you have a goal in sight, there won't only ever exist just one way to achieve it. Find another way, if you want to continue pursuing that goal." He looked up at Noctis. "Perhaps, there is something good to come from this, too."

Dad's gaze at that moment told him something.

He had noticed the way his dad had looked at him sometimes in the past but never could quite place his finger on it. By now he understood it for what it was: sorrow, a father mourning his child's death. But now his dad's eyes had a different glimmer to them. Noctis wondered. Could it be? Was he… _happy_?

Happy that Noctis wouldn't need to become his successor, that he was free now, freed of the prophecy?

Find another way, though? He wished it could be that easy. All he wanted was to protect his dad, his friends, Luna, his people,  _everyone_  from what he'd experienced in the future, but he doubted there was any other way to accomplish that but with the help of the prophecy.

 

* * *

 

"Highness?"

No answer came from inside the prince's suite when Ignis, tray with a hearty and still steaming meal on it in hand, knocked on the door. He waited, knocked another time, but when he still didn't receive a signal to enter, he didn't hesitate long. "It's me. I'm coming in, Noct."

Noct wasn't there.

Placing the tray on the dining table in the corner of the room before taking a look at the bathroom and walk-in closet, Ignis made sure he didn't overlook anywhere, but the prince indeed was nowhere to be seen.

Where could he have gone? Perhaps, he took matters into his own hands and went over to the Council Chamber. Or would he have left the Citadel altogether? If that was the case, did he go to his apartment? Or somewhere else entirely?

Once more, worry and thoughts of uselessness crept into Ignis's head. If only he had stayed close to Noct today. He could curse himself for his thoughtlessness.

Before he ended up panicking without reason, however, he decided to wait a few more minutes. He knew he had a penchant to overthink matters. Sitting down at the small dining table, he stared down the meal of chicken and egg on rice.

Bright sunlight filtered in through the wide panorama window right next to the table, hitting the dishware and blinding him, mocking him. It was a perfect summer noon, but Ignis's poor mood rather called for a muddy November day.

Minutes passed and he grew restless. Instead of waiting any longer, Ignis thought, perhaps he should call Noct, or go look for him right away after all.

Before he could make a decision, the door opened.

In came Noct, though he looked more like a shadow of the confident prince he'd witnessed only yesterday. He donned the same impassive mask he'd learned to wear as the Crown Prince in the spotlight of the media, but the hunched shoulders and the slight downturn of his lips betrayed his inner struggle. He still wore the same suit that Ignis had pressed oh so carefully yesterday while the prince was out fishing with his shield. It said a lot about Noct's state that he hadn't shed the uncomfortable wardrobe the moment he had had the chance to.

Still, Ignis felt immediate relief now that he knew Noct was still here in the Citadel and hadn't gone somewhere Ignis wouldn't be able to find him.

"Noct, thank goodness," Ignis burst out, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, but he was unable to contain his relief.

If Noct was bothered by it, though, he didn't show it. He acknowledged Ignis with a small nod and that was it.

Ignis wavered. Would it be too forward to ask Noct where he'd been and what he'd learned? Did he already know something Ignis didn't? Too many questions were swirling around in his head, all begging to be addressed, but instead, he asked, "Have you had something to eat yet?"

"'M not hungry," Noct murmured back. But he sat down at the dining table nonetheless, surveying the meal as if it was a foreign object and not something Ignis had cooked for him several times before.

Ignis sat down opposite him, gently pushing the dish closer to his friend. "I insist you eat. It's chicken on rice with egg. I recall you've quite enjoyed it before." When Noct still didn't grab for the cutlery, Ignis started to ramble. "As you're aware I'm still experimenting with this particular recipe. Perhaps, you'll find the flavor still lacking somewhat—I wonder if a touch of soy sauce more could do."

Inwardly, Ignis cursed himself. Just what was he doing?

"Oh, I'm sure you got it down perfect." Noct's voice sounded forced when he replied. He still didn't make a move to eat.

They sat there in silence. Until—

"It's fine, Iggy. You can just ask, y'know?"

So it was as he had feared.  _Oh Noct…_

"I…" he started to say, but what was there to ask?  _Are you alright?_ What a foolish question when it was obvious his friend was anything but.  _Is it as I fear—will they strip you of your title?_  But just speaking the thought out loud would make it real.

 _What about me? Am I still your Chamberlain?_   _Will I not be needed anymore?_  was the true question on his mind, but how dare he be so selfish now of all times?

"Where have you been?" Another empty question, but all Ignis could muster up at this point.

"I came back from talking with Dad," Noct answered. Ignis thought that would be all, but his prince who usually avoided talking about unpleasant matters like the scourge, surprised Ignis when he continued, "They've already made the decision. I bet you've figured everything out already anyway. So yeah… It's just as you think," he said, still not quite meeting Ignis's eyes, but the catches in his voice betrayed his emotions. "Things…will be different now."

When his oldest friend  _finally_  looked up at him then, it was with an expression Ignis had never seen on him before. It wasn't the crybaby face of a lonely boy who craved for his father's attention nor was it the angsty teenager hiding his insecurities and fears under an apathetic farce. It was subtler, with his face barely showing his turmoil at first glance—except for the  _eyes_ , Ignis thought. They reminded him of the King's in the moments when Ignis would detect a glimmer of sorrow in them after reports of fallen Kingsglaives had come in or when he talked about his son's future responsibilities.

He could see the same glimmer in Noct's eyes now, only that his youthful face otherwise shared next to no similarities with the King's. Despite that youthfulness, Noct didn't look like a barely seventeen-year-old teenager, he looked older and wearier than the Noct he knew.

Ignis didn't know what to make of that. On one hand, he felt more distanced from his friend than ever, like he couldn't even fathom to understand what was going on in his head. On the other hand, he was intrigued by that person sitting opposite him. Since yesterday, Noct had surprised him again and again, showing him just how much he'd grown up over the years—showing him just how much potential still was hidden there.

Not that he hadn't seen it before. He had seen in the little things: in the way Noct tended to children and animals, in the way he had kept his grades up as the top of his class over the years, or in the way he voiced his opinion when they went over council reports together—though clumsily worded sometimes, his arguments had always shown that his heart was at the right place, that the future of Lucis and its people were always on his mind.

Was all hope lost? Would his prince never be able to develop his full potential? Would Ignis never get to see the kind of king Noct would become?

Ignis contemplated for a long moment before he finally decided to ask what he needed to know if he wanted to think of a way to get his charge out of this situation. "Noct," he began hesitantly, "may I ask what exactly occurred yesterday during the ceremony…for the council to be so absolute in their decision?" If he knew all the details—if he knew what went wrong, perhaps there was still something he could do for Noct.

The prince seemed to debate his response. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then shut it again as if he thought better of it. Eventually, he said, "What is there to tell? It's pretty much what you're thinking. No light from the Crystal. Duh."

But was that really all that happened? If his eyes hadn't betrayed him, Ignis could swear he had seen Noct's hand vanishing  _into_  the Crystal—as absurd as it sounded. He couldn't help thinking that Noct wasn't telling him the full story.

"Is that all there is?" he dared to ask.

Again, Noct hesitated and that alone gave Ignis all he wanted to know. "Yeah, Iggy, that's all," he said.

There was something Noct wasn't telling him, Ignis was certain of it. There was more, but for some reason whatsoever, he didn't want to share. However, as much as Ignis wanted to know, it wasn't his place to probe beyond what Noct was comfortable with.

"I see…" he said, giving up on winkling anymore out of the prince. He would have to acquire the information he needed through other means, then.

His phone had been vibrating in his pocket for a while and Ignis had done well to tune it out. Now that their conversation had ended more or less, though, the quiet vibrating sound became something hard to ignore.

"Why aren't you taking your call?" asked Noct.

"It's fine. I can call back later." It had stopped vibrating, anyway.

"If you say so," the prince said flatly. Once again, he wasn't meeting Ignis's eyes, instead staring at the dish of chicken with egg as if it would disappear the moment he looked up. The food had long since turned cold and had to be reheated to be of decent taste.

The phone went off again.

"Take it," Noct said. There was an edge to his voice.

Ignis sighed. "I apologize." He took the phone out of his pocket and took a glimpse at the screen. It was the Marshal.

He answered.

" _Come to my office. Now,"_  came the clear command.

As if on autopilot he replied, "Yes, Marshal."

The line went dead.

"Cor, huh?" Noct asked.

"He asked for me, but—"

"Go see him, then."

"I don't need to—"

"It's fine. Just go," Noct said, harsher this time. It sounded like an order and Ignis felt compelled to obey.

Reluctantly, he stood. "Very well." He tried to come up with fitting words to say in his departure, but nothing appropriate came to mind. "Please have someone reheat your meal and make sure to eat up. I'll be back," he said, briefly waiting for Noct to answer him, but nothing came.

Ignis left, determined.

He feared for the worst. As much as he wanted to deny it, everything pointed to the fact that this wasn't a situation that could easily be fixed. Noct lost his powers. And as horribly as Drautos had phrased it, he had to admit that his words had been true. A king without powers couldn't uphold the Wall. If Noct really had no magic to conjure, he couldn't be King of Lucis.

But Ignis wouldn't give up this easily, either. As powerless as he felt, he had once made a promise to always be there for Noct and protect him, and he'd be damned before he would break the promise.

 

* * *

 

Once the door clicked shut behind Ignis, the tension Noctis had been holding on to for the past hour or so ripped loose from him. Exhausted, he leaned back into the chair, doing nothing but breathing in and out.

After what could have been seconds or minutes, the smell of the chicken and egg laying forgotten on the table brought him back to his senses, hunger being the first urge to kick in.

He was  _ravenous._

It was no surprise, though. The last time he—or rather, this body—had eaten something had to be yesterday, before he'd ended up in this body, probably during his outdoor trip with Gladio. Maybe, Gladio had brought cup noodles and that's what he'd eaten last. Or maybe, Ignis had packed a lunch box for them, not wanting Noctis to have to resort to cup noodles on his birthday.

But, of course, Noctis didn't remember all that. To him, it happened a lifetime ago and who in their right mind remembered what they'd eaten thirteen years ago?

The food in front of him was cold by now, but it still looked delicious.

As if on instinct, he made to summon his fire magic to reheat the meal, and then immediately regretted that action.

No magic came to him.

The sensation of being carved out and hollow inside welled up in him again, just like yesterday when his magic had been ripped away from him by Bahamut. The memory left him sick to his stomach and light-headed.

Noctis swallowed down the bile in his throat, thinking. Was that really it? Was all his magic just  _gone_? He closed his eyes and tried to focus on his connection, tried to will fire or lightning, or anything, really, into his hands. He'd even content himself with a frozen meal if at least his ice magic would answer him.

As his magic didn't seem to work, though, he tried to access his armiger and pull something from it. He concentrated on the Engine Blade he knew he'd received from his dad when he was younger—for his sixteenth birthday if he wasn't mistaken.

When he opened his eyes again, his hands were empty. His connection to the Crystal, his powers really were gone. In its stead, there was a deep pit of nothing.

The bile came up again, he choked on air, coughed, and couldn't help the sob escaping him. Because dammit. This was  _real_. This was really happening to him. If there was no possible way to fix this, he was going to be stuck in this messed up timeline.

A grumble from his stomach alerted him to his other pressing problem. Noctis trained his blurred vision—no, he was  _not_ crying—back on the dish in front of him. Ignis had called it chicken and egg on rice, but he remembered that his Chamberlain soon would name it 'mother and child rice bowl'. In a few years, he'd have perfected the recipe, but Noctis knew it was delicious even now already. After all, it had been one of his all-time favorites.

 _Who cares if it's cold_? He grabbed the fork. Taking the first bite, he confirmed what he knew already. Yeah, it was delicious.

He savored the taste of Ignis's cooking, taking slow bites. It was obvious that Ignis had wanted to comfort him by preparing this—Noctis couldn't even see any vegetables hidden in there.

 _Ignis._  Noctis was close to choking up again. He wondered what his future advisor was thinking of him now that he'd hear the full news from Cor soon… Would he be disappointed in Noctis? Would he be mad? If he knew the truth—

Forcefully stuffing his mouth with another few forkfuls, he willed that thought away. He'd debated hard with himself whether to tell Ignis the truth. In the end, he came up with the same conclusions as with his dad.

Just the thought of endangering his friend had him shivering with icy terror—no, endangering  _all_ his friends. Not only Ignis but Prompto, Gladio,  _Luna_. All of them had sacrificed some part of themselves for him in his future, and just the fear of that happening again had him selfishly disregarding the option of asking for their help, especially as long as he didn't know what kind of game Bahamut was playing with him.

It was too dangerous, he told himself.

Inwardly, he knew he was just being a damn fucking coward.

"Dammit," he sobbed, finally letting his emotions spill out. He dug into the meal again, wolfing down all of it, and just for a little while, in between mouthfuls of chicken and rice, allowed himself to cry like a baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but I wanted to get this out already. I was really happy about reading all your thoughts and feedback last chapter - it was so helpful to see what you guys think - so I hope this chapter didn't disappoint!  
> For Prompto fans, he'll finally make his big entrance next chapter. ;)
> 
> As always, big shout-out to my awesome beta readers [Kitsune138](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsune138/pseuds/Kitsune138) and [Poshu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poshu/pseuds/Poshu)! You guys are awesome!  
>    
> [tumblr](https://myoyakodon.tumblr.com/)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/oyashiran)  
> 


	4. Of Plebs, Dogs, and Princes

No new messages.

Zero, nada, zip. All that greeted Prompto’s eyes was a wall of unanswered texts.

Not that he was surprised. It had been the same yesterday, and the day before yesterday, _and_ the day before that. If it wasn’t for the teeny tiny bit of hope that made him check his phone every few minutes, he would’ve stopped bothering way before. _This will be the last time,_ he had told himself countless times already, but here he was checking his texts _again_.

Shaking his head at his stupidity, he slipped the phone into his pocket and got ready to leave the house. He was running late for school, after all.

Right. School. _Ugh._ Today was the very first day after summer break and just the thought of school had kept him under his covers this morning.

Usually, he’d be a ball of energy in the morning. He’d wake up at the first chirp of the early bird for his daily morning jog and get himself all charged up for the day.

Today not so much. Guilt was already gnawing at his conscience for missing out on his morning jog. Even more than that though, he hated that he’d hadn’t woken up in time to see his parents off. That had been his last chance to see them for the next couple of weeks as they needed to leave for a business trip.

Not that they were home often even when they weren’t on a trip. They both commuted to a Spira bank branch close to the Wall at the other side of Insomnia. Naturally, they left the house early and came back late. So he only got to talk to them in the mornings before or after his jog, or on the weekends. Prompto didn’t mind that.

Well, not most of the time.

At last, he decided to get a move on and slipped into his shoes. His train would arrive in about five minutes. If he’d miss the train, he’d most likely end up late.

 _Just awesome._ So he’d have to run to the station to make it in time and end up all sweaty. But at least it would make up for his missed morning jog.

Ready to go, Prompto grabbed his bag and locked the entrance door behind him. Outside, the stale and humid air of late summer greeted him.

 _Here we go_.

Reluctantly, he broke into a half-jog down the asphalt path of his quiet suburban neighborhood, passing single-family houses and little shops that were still closed as well as the convenience store where he usually would’ve bought his lunch—if he wasn’t running late, that is. When he arrived in front of the city railway station, he could already hear the train announcement up on the platform. He hurried up the stairs. With his luck, he wouldn’t make it, but dammit he’d still try.

After he dashed the last meters to the train only for the doors to— _surprise, surprise_ —close a moment before he reached them, Prompto knew that today would just suck.

 _Why me?_ he wanted to ask the heavens. Prompto couldn’t hold back the long, miserable sigh leaving his throat. His mood was as foul as the sweat clinging to his skin.

Though if he admitted it to himself, all that wasn’t the real reason for his shitty mood. Usually, he’d be fine with having a horrible school day ahead of him because he knew he’d have _good_ company.

Noct.

The thought of his best friend made him once again very aware of his phone’s weight in his pocket. He took it out and hesitated, knowing better than to check his messenger app when it hadn’t been more than ten minutes since he’d last checked.

At last, he did what he told himself _not_ to do anymore and opened his and Noct's chat history. He’d have to wait for the next train to arrive anyway and had nothing better to do. Yeah, totally legit reason.

No new messages.

He exhaled a soft groan and, against his better judgment, scrolled—and cringed—his way through their one-sided convo.

**Friday, August 30**

**Prompto (** **11:23** **):**   _hey buddy! happy bday!!! 2 bad u have a boooring royal party planned 4 today and wont grace this pleb with ur presence… lmk once u know when u wanna hit the arcade tmr!!_

**Saturday, August 31**

**Prompto (11:40):** mornin buddy! How was ur party?? when do u want to meet up for the arcade 2day?

 **Prompto (12:32):** u not awake yet dude? long nite?

 **Prompto (14:02):** somethin came up?

 **Prompto (17:13):** we gonna meet up tday rite? =T

 **Prompto (17:14):** lolz that made me sound like some angry gf

 **Prompto (18:17):** dude u alive???

**Prompto (18:20) called Noct**

**Sunday, September 1**

**Prompto (22:17):** Guess ill see ya at school tmr then!!

Just looking at the wall of text gave him all kinds of unwanted feelings and he didn’t know which one he hated more. The shame because of how stupid and needy his texts sounded or the sting of rejection.

No. _Nope. I’m not doing this._ He breathed through his nose, trying with all his willpower to not enter the downward spiral of self-doubt.

_Right. There’s got to be an explanation for this._

Because if he didn’t know any better, he’d say his best friend was _ignoring_ him. That the day had finally come when the Prince of Lucis realized who Prompto was: someone not worthy of royalty, someone not good enough to be kept around.

But Prompto _knew_ better. He and Noct were best friends.

Hating himself for his dark and traitorous thoughts, he tried to chase them away by softly humming the chocobo tune to himself. That seemed like a better way to bridge the time while he waited for the next train to arrive.

When he made it to school—a tiny bit close to being late—and barely reached his seat before the bell rang, Noct wasn’t sitting slouched down in front of him as he’d expected.

Was he late, too? Prompto doubted that. It was true that Noct was the worst sleepyhead in Eos, but between Ignis acting as his personal alarm clock and the chauffeur who drove him down the few blocks to school, Noct never was late. Noct had once told him it wouldn’t do for him—the Crown Prince—to be late for school or fail a class. Prompto kind of got that. While no one cared if a pleb like Prompto showed up an hour late to school, _or_ didn’t show up at all, it would make it into the papers if Noct came only thirty seconds late. All eyes were on Noct. Because he, unlike Prompto, was an important person.

So, how come he wasn’t there yet?

These thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he noticed that the teacher wasn't there, either, despite it being time for class in about _now_ —a glance to the clock told him.

Something wasn’t quite right. Puzzled more than anything, Prompto looked around the room.

His classmates were talking amongst themselves, with everyone having long since abandoned their seats to gather around each other. Way too immersed in their conversations, they hadn’t even looked up to say hi to him nor were they taking notice of the teacher’s absence. Something big must’ve happened for them to be _this_ lively in the early morning.

“Man, I can’t believe it,” Prompto heard Timothy say, one of the guys he sometimes paired up with during P.E. when Noct had a sick day or princely obligations.

“Is it really true?” A girl’s voice. Livia. She was shy and pretty cute.

“Why’d the papers lie about something like that?” answered her bosom buddy Marina. These two were inseparable. Kind of like him and Noct... Prompto had dreamed of going on a double date with them for the longest time, but Noct had never shown any interest.

“What’s gonna happen now?”

“You think he’ll come to school today?”

“This is too crazy to be real!”

The classroom was exploding in sounds of animated conversations, chatter and _ah’s_ and _oh’s_ coming from everywhere.

Did something happen at school? Did the math teacher get suspended? Was there a water-pipe burst and could they go home again—? Prompto felt hope building up inside him at the idea of one more day of summer break.

“Hey, Prompto!” Mauricius called him over. “Aren’tcha best pals with the prince? You tell us!”

Wait, what? Had this anything to do with Noct? Prompto felt a surge of protectiveness at the possibility of people talking shit about his best friend. “Tell you what?” he replied, defense-mode on.

“C’mon, are the news true or not? Did the prince get disowned for real?”

Noct, disowned? What the heck? Usually, he would’ve laughed at such a dumb joke, but coupled with the bad feelings he’d been harboring for the last few days, he was more than cautious now. “Whatcha even talking about?” he croaked out.

“Wait, you didn’t hear?” This time it was Timothy asking. He seemed genuinely surprised.

Prompto shrugged his shoulders. He had no clue what was going on.

“Check it out for yourself, then,“ Mauricius said, giving him a funny look as he handed him his phone that showed a news article of today’s Insomnia Daily.

Prompto swallowed thickly, not sure if he wanted to read whatever this was.

 

_Historic Failure at Coming of Age Ceremony. Crown Prince Noctis Stripped of Rank. Is the Crown Without Heir Now?_

_The Crown issued a press release early this morning, announcing the ill success of Crown Prince Noctis’s coming of age ceremony. The ceremony was held as planned on Friday, August 30—the seventeenth birthday of the Prince—but allegedly ended without the Crystal’s blessing, thus marking this ceremony the first time in history that an heir of the Lucis Caelum lineage was deemed inadequate by the Crystal, and thereby unfit as the next successor to the throne._

_The Crown has not yet disclosed any possible explanations for the happenings at the ceremony. Experts argue that the King’s approach in the Prince’s upbringing is to be seen as the cause of this debacle, citing his decision to push back the date of the prince’s coming of age ceremony a year to his seventeenth instead of his sixteenth birthday as one example. Back when the decision had been made last year, it had ignited a round of criticism from parts of the Council and the general public. Due to—_

 

Prompto couldn’t read any further. Feeling like throwing up although he hadn’t had anything for breakfast this morning, he shoved the phone back into Mauricius’s hand.

Noct was, what? He wouldn’t be next King?

This didn’t make sense to Prompto. _Nothing_ of this was making sense. All this talk about press releases and crystals and “debacles” was way over his head. He felt like he couldn’t even grasp what all this meant to Lucis, to his home Insomnia, to Noct.

“So, whatcha say?”—“Didn’t he tell you anythin’?”—“Is the prince alright?” —“I bet he’s too embarrassed to come to school, huh?”—“He tell you somethin’ that’s not in the papers yet?”—“Yeah, like somethin’ real classified!”—“C’mon, man, tell us!” came the questions from everywhere around the classroom, almost making him feel dizzy.

Completely overwhelmed by the situation, Prompto couldn’t get anything out of his mouth.

“Quiet now!” came Mr. Cotta’s—their teacher’s—sharp voice from the door, saving Prompto from his classmates’ interrogation, and for the first time in his life did he feel relief at seeing his _math teacher_.

”Class will start now,” Mr. Cotta said in his down-to-business voice, leaving no room for argument.

Sighs and grumbles resounded throughout the room. Everyone obediently returned to their seat, knowing better than to talk back to the man.

Prompto, too, got back to his seat and slumped down onto it.

Dammit.

He hated himself. He’d been so busy feeling rejected and ignored that it was only now that he started wondering if Noct hadn’t answered his texts because something bad had happened. While Prompto had been sulking over unanswered texts, his best friend had been suffering from something much worse.

Prompto made a decision then:

He was done with self-pity. Now it was time to be there for Noct. Right after school, he’d rush over to Noct’s place and see how he was doing. His mind filled with worries for his best friend, he couldn’t wait for the school day to end.

 

* * *

Noctis rolled over to the other side of the bed where the sheets were still cold, trying to decide whether he was hoping to fall back asleep, or dreading it. His sleep had been filled with wild dreams that bordered on nightmares—

Dreams of his dad’s disappointed face telling him he wasn’t his son anymore.

Of his Crownsguard—his _friends_ —turning their back on him and bowing to the new future king.

Of Luna crying in anguish and cursing his existence because she died all in vain.

And of Ardyn laughing down at him, opening his arms wide as if welcoming an old friend, saying, _“We are in the same boat now, Noct.”_

Then the nightmares would morph into surreal images of a place he’d never been before.

_Somewhere deep underground. A maze of stone walls and structures older than the Citadel. Ruins, long forgotten and laid to waste. Chalky dust covering the floor. Pitch-black with no natural light making its way in. Wandering through hallways upon hallways—_

_Until finding himself at a dead end. An underground sea? Yeah, right in front of him a huge body of crystalline water spreading out, and something tiny glimmering an ethereal gold in there. Wait, was that a…_ fish _—? Then, immediate irritation at seeing the_ puny little thing _that just wouldn’t leave his dreams alone._

 _“There is no more time for dilly-dallying, my king. Come to see me. You already know where to look”, it would say, ordering him around in its_ holier-than-thou _voice as if it was_ entitled _or something,_ this little _—_

He would wake up disoriented and confused about where he was, and _when_ , only to drift straight back into the same dream again. It was a circle that didn’t bring him rest, but he felt too drained to break it by getting out of bed and facing the world.

This time, though, Noctis had lain awake for what was probably more than an hour, but sleep eluded him. Instead, he was rolling over from one side of the bed to the other with his mind racing with thoughts of the future and the past and the present.

_Look at what kind of pathetic king I am now. I can’t even get my ass out of bed._

He didn’t feel any of the confidence he’d carried a few days ago, the same confidence that had enabled him to fulfill the prophecy. To be strong for his people and make things right. For the future of Lucis.

All that was gone somewhere unreachable now. Who was he supposed to be if he wasn’t allowed to be king, anyway?

An ugly snort left his lips. At this point, he could only laugh at his pitiable state.

Turning over on his back and blinking his eyes open, his gaze fell upon the sight of the bedroom ceiling in his old city apartment. Dim sunlight streamed in through the close-drawn curtains and he could hear faint sounds of traffic outside. Although he didn’t have a clue as to how long he’d been asleep or what time it was now, the fact that it was daytime told him that he’d most likely slept through a whole night since he’d left the Citadel.

 _The Citadel…_ He wondered how his dad was doing. How Ignis, Gladio, _everyone_ back at the Citadel was doing. Goddamn, he missed them, but at the same time, he was too weak of a man—of a king—to face everyone’s disappointment, to be confined so near the people he had let down. Yesterday, he’d just _known_ he needed to leave that place, or else he’d go crazy.

And now he was here in his old apartment, sleeping his worries away _._ Frankly, he could sleep another few days. Yeah, he’d probably wake up in a week, smelling like the breath of a malboro or even worse, but if he was being honest with himself he didn’t want to get up yet. He could figure out how to face all the consequences later when he had a clear head. Right now, he was done being a responsible king or prince or whatever.

 _Yeah, later,_ he decided and pulled the blanket tighter around himself even though it was stifling hot beneath it. _Later_ sounded good.

He was close to drowsing off again, another dream or nightmare calling out to him—

His cell phone chimed somewhere.

Noctis shot up, alert. Maybe—

Maybe, it was his dad? That wishful thought alone had him heaving himself out of bed and chasing after the ringtone.

He found the phone in his suit jacket that laid abandoned on the floor. A mass of missed calls, texts, and notifications from his social media bombarded him.

_So the news is out already._

It was Monday mid-morning. He’d slept straight through the news release that was scheduled for today.

Ignoring the social media alerts—he didn’t want to know what people whose faces he didn’t even recall had to say about him—he scrolled through his missed calls and private texts. Most of them were from Ignis, and a surge of guilt shot through him at seeing how often he had called. But there were calls and texts from others, too. Iris, Clarus, Jared, Ignis’s family, some Glaives he’d gotten along with well back in the day, and… Prompto.

There were _many_ texts from Prompto, in fact. The pangs of guilt intensified when he read through them. Just great. He managed to disappoint one more person dear to him.

 _You’re a disappointment,_ the people in his dreams had called him.

His dad, too.

Dad…

No matter how often he went through his recent missed calls and texts, he couldn’t find anything new from his dad. The last message Dad had sent him was from the day of his birthday.

On that day, he had been too overwhelmed to read it. Now, he felt greedy. Knowing his dad was alive here, he wanted to read all his texts that he could get his fingers on. He wanted to see and hear his dad and be as close as possible. Before he’d lose him all over again. Before he'd have to step into his dad's shoes once again.

Sitting back down on the bed, he breathed out slowly and counted to three before he tapped the text from three days ago.

**Dad (06:16)**

Happy Birthday, Noct. I did want to call you, but I doubt you are awake at this hour and I am not so cruel as to torture my dear son on his birthday with a call this early in the day. I can’t believe this day has come so fast. You have grown up to become so much more than anything this old sappy father of yours could have ever asked for and I am so proud of you. I am looking forward to our dinner this evening when I can tell you all this face to face. Please bear with me then. Enjoy your fishing trip with Gladiolus today. Again, Happy Birthday. Dad

Noctis’s eyes started to burn again.

Reading his dad’s message, he remembered now. He remembered how his seventeenth birthday had been like. He remembered their dinner date. Not from three days ago—because the dinner never happened this time around—but how it played out the first time around, in his _real_ lifetime.

It had been only the two of them. They had way too fancy but still delicious fish to eat. His dad had given him one of his ‘Dad vouchers’ for a trip to a chocobo farm on the eastern side of Insomnia, promising to go there together. It was a childish and kind of embarrassing gift, but Noctis had been looking forward to it nonetheless. In the end, his dad had never managed to make the time as the war with Niflheim had intensified only a few weeks later. But he remembered that it had still been fun when he went there with Prompto.  

The burning behind his eyes became worse. But no, he couldn't cry. He was _no_ crier, and the recent events had already reduced him to pathetic sobs once. He wouldn’t let it happen again. He was a king, dammit.

He let himself fall back down on the bed, physically and emotionally wrung out. He brought his phone right up to his face and re-read the message.

 _“I am so proud of you.”_   

It was all a lie now. There was no reason for his dad to be proud of him anymore. He knew that, but reading the message still made him feel as if the last few horrible days had never happened.

Reading the message over and over again until his eyes grew heavy from the screen’s light, Noctis dozed off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

When he woke up, he felt fresh and rested, his mind blank.

Nature called to him. He freed himself from his blanket, heaved himself up from the bed, and padded over to the bathroom.

After doing his business, he turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face, trying to clean the sleep from his eyes. The water felt like salvation to his clammy skin and he decided he’d need to take a shower soon after this, too. When had been the last time he’d showered anyway? It felt like too long ago. He continued washing his face thoroughly, grabbed the towel, and looked up at the mirror—

The person who was staring back at him wasn’t quite himself.

Noctis froze up. _Shit. I forgot._

For a few short moments, he had been blissfully ignorant. Now that reality had caught up with him, dread seeped back into his bones. _How_ could he have forgotten, even just for a minute?

The baby-faced prince in the mirror who looked close to crying told him all he needed to know, though. _Suck it up, brat. This is real_ , he told that prince.

Turning away from the mirror, Noctis fled the bathroom. He wanted to be as far away from that mirror as he could.

He clicked on the lights in the living room, for the first time really taking in his apartment: The big, comfy couch on which Prompto and he had spent hours upon hours playing games. The kitchen, a place that made Noctis remember many different smells and tastes of Ignis’s delicious cooking. His bookshelves where he most likely could find a few of Gladio’s historical novels tucked away in.

Coming back to his place no doubt should’ve felt like a nostalgic experience, considering it had been more than ten years since he’d last seen it. But the only thing he felt at this point was resignation at being trapped here, in the past.

He trudged over to the couch, then let himself sink into it, burying his face in his hands. Maybe he should take another nap. What else was there that he could do here, anyway? Bahamut pretty much told him that he shouldn’t do _anything_. _Watch from the sidelines_ , he had said. Watch _what_ , though?

After a while of just sitting there, he became aware of something poking his thigh. He looked down in search of the bothersome object.

His heart skipped a beat. _No way—_

Luna’s notebook was lying there on the couch next to him, opened.

Of course, it wasn’t the very same book they’d last used to send to each other. They had filled a series of books over the years by the time he departed for Altissia.

This one looked about halfway filled. The last message was from Luna. He—his past self—must have had a look at her message but not replied yet. Her elegant writing looked almost comical next to the childish moogle sticker that said ‘Happy Kupoday!’. Still, seeing the handwriting of one of his dearest friends made his heart swell with a mixture of regret and longing.

 

_Happy Birthday, dear Noctis._

_This year is special. I know you are filled with apprehension about your coming of age ceremony, but be reassured that everything will go well. I know it from my heart. Please believe in yourself just as I believe in you._

_Would that I could be there and celebrate your birthday with you, but know that I’m with you all the same._

_Yours Truly,_

_Luna_

 

As he read her message, Noctis felt the conflicted emotions bubbling up.

 _Luna was alive_. Like his dad, Luna was alive here.

Despite everything having gone to shit, there _was_ something good in this after all. So many people were still alive and well here, and there was still hope for them, there was still hope for _Luna_. Would she live longer in this timeline? After all, if he wasn’t the Chosen anymore, she wouldn’t have to die for him, too. The Astrals couldn’t ask her to do it all on her own, could they?

Then the epiphany hit him. _Of course_. Why hadn’t he thought of it earlier?

 _Luna_. Luna would know what to do.

Noctis wanted to spare everyone from the truth. He wanted to spare Luna, his dad, his friends, and everyone else. But he knew Luna couldn’t be spared. The Astrals wouldn’t keep her in the dark. After all, she was the Oracle.

Maybe, she already knew. And even if she didn’t, he knew that it wasn’t right to keep the truth from her of all people, not after all she’d done to banish the darkness.

And perhaps, she could talk sense into the Astrals—if not into Bahamut, then Shiva. With her help, Bahamut might change his mind after all.

Standing up from the sofa, he went in search of a pen.

It was a foreign feeling to hold a pen in his hand. The last time he’d written something by hand literally had been ten years ago. It had been his last message to Luna, right before she died.

 _Luna,_ he started to write. _There is so much I need to tell you._

He faltered. Just how could he express in so little words all he needed and _wanted_ to tell her? It was impossible. He’d never been good with words, neither spoken nor written words, but he knew this was too important to fuck up. He somehow needed to convey everything without confusing her, and without prompting her to run into danger, either.

For what felt like hours, Noctis drafted the letter in his head until he recognized that there was no _good_ way to phrase it. He just needed to write down the truth, all of it, even if it hurt like hell to tell Luna how dark their future, and how great his failure was.

Ending the letter with the words, _I’m so sorry, Luna. I wish I’d be stronger and could do this without ever telling you,_ Noctis felt like the biggest disgrace alive.

Putting his pen down and closing the notebook, he waited.

Usually, when he was ready to send the notebook back Umbra appeared as if he could read his thoughts. He was pretty sure that Umbra _could_ read them.

So, he listened out for the telltale bark of his favorite dog or the sound of paws running across his flat.

He waited, and then waited some more.

But Umbra didn’t come.

 

* * *

The oddly-shaped stone he’d been kicking all the way home from school skittered ahead of him, bouncing off the pavement like a ball. The front of his shoes didn’t look as new and shiny as they had before he’d started this stupid kicking game, but Prompto couldn’t care less.

The sound of the radio announcement coming from a store he walked by made him kick the stone even harder.

_“As of today, Prince Noctis is no longer Crown Prince of Lucis.”_

It was as if the entire world had conspired to rub the news in his face, judging by how each and every store or kiosk he passed had the radio or television turned on, reporting the same news over and over again.

_“This morning, the Citadel issued a press release, announcing that Prince Noctis is relieved of his title as Crown Prince of Lucis.”_

It was like listening to a broken record.

 _Shut the fuck up_ , he wanted to scream. _I fuckin’ know now, okay?_

Reaching the juncture where he and Noct usually parted ways when they’d go straight home instead of the arcade, Prompto stopped in his tracks. Noct’s apartment was a few more blocks down the street. If he wanted to go through this and see his best friend, he'd need to decide, and he'd need to decide _now_.

The monotone and by now familiar voice that came from the huge TV on display in an electrical supply store didn’t make it easier, though. _“This press release issued from the Citadel states that the failure during Friday’s coming of age ceremony led to…”_

With all the willpower he could muster, Prompto blended the voice out. He bit his tongue and started tugging at his wristband, thinking.

He felt at odds with himself. More than anything, he wanted to cheer Noct up because he was pretty positive that his buddy couldn’t be taking this well. That’s what best friends were there for, right? But Noct would have people around him who were doing just that already. His dad, Ignis, Gladio, and all the other Citadel folks. Prompto didn’t belong to that group of people. Wouldn’t he just make things awkward if he showed up now?

As he stood there at the juncture, still undecided, it took him some time to notice that he had company.

A somewhat familiar-looking dog was sniffing about, seemingly on his search for something. It looked lost and dejected, ears hanging low, and Prompto immediately had the urge to take care of the poor thing. Damn, he had a sweet spot for dogs.

“Hey, little guy.”

What was this dog doing here all alone? It was a gorgeous animal and looked well-groomed, its glossy black fur with sprigs of white to it appearing crystal-smooth underneath the bright sunlight. Where was its master or mistress?

The dog came closer, nosing Prompto’s shoes, then working itself up to his hand. Its soggy breath made his fingers feel even more sticky on this _beautiful_ hot and humid summer day.

Their eyes met. He couldn’t help but feel as if the dog wanted to tell him something of great importance.

Then, a lick to his hand.

Prompto kneeled down to pet its soft fur. “Whatcha doin’ here all alone, buddy?”

The dog gave a pathetic whine and continued sniffing and licking him. Why did it look _just so_ familiar? Prompto was sure he’d seen it somewhere before—

“Wait—” Prompto heard himself gasp. “Aren’t you Lady Lunafreya’s dog? The good li’l boy who always comes over to Noct’s place?” What was its name again? It was male, that Prompto was certain of. “You on your way to Noct, boy?”

Had he gotten lost on his way to Noct's place, perhaps?

“I can guide you, y’know,” he offered, not even knowing if the poor thing would get the meaning. Then again, Lady Lunafreya’s dogs were highly intelligent, Prompto knew that.

A whimper came in reply.

Prompto took it as an affirmative and without any more delay, started walking towards Noct’s apartment. The dog followed behind. Regularly throwing a glance behind himself to make sure he was still following him, Prompto led the way. What a good boy. Prompto wanted to gush over and pamper him.

He also was just glad to have a real good reason to go see Noct now.

Some minutes later, they arrived in front of Noct’s apartment complex. Prompto was about to head inside, but the familiar figure of Noct’s tall and broad-shouldered bodyguard—or _shield_ or whatever he preferred to be called—caught his attention.

Gladio, after noticing his approach, acknowledged him with a simple, “Oh, hey.”

“Hey, whatcha doin’ here, big guy?” he asked, hoping the question sounded casual and good-natured. On the inside, he was freaking out. So far, there hadn’t been many instances when he’d been all alone with Gladio or Ignis. All his interactions with them had been awkward and intimidating on Prompto’s part. He was absolutely convinced that Noct’s friends and the whole Citadel couldn’t stand him.

“Just makin’ sure the brat doesn’t leave the house for now,” Gladio said in reply. “Lots of angry folks out and ‘bout, y’know.”

“Oh.”

Shit. Prompto could imagine that. There were too many crown citizens out there who didn’t think of Noct as a human being with emotions just like anyone else. With this damn fucking news out, Prompto could only imagine what kind of commotion it could cause and that security needed to be tighter for a while.

“Noct—is he alright?” he asked because that was what he really wanted to know all day since he’d heard the news. How _could_ his best friend be alright after all this, though?

“I dunno. Haven’t actually seen him since.”

Gladio’s reply got him by surprise. “Oh, you’re plannin’ to pay him a visit now, then?”

“Nah, I’m fine here,” was Gladio’s crisp retort.

That didn’t make sense to Prompto. Wasn’t it normal for friends to check on each other when they had bad stuff going on in their life?

He laughed—probably way too awkwardly—because he didn’t know how else to respond. He tried to come up with a good explanation for why Gladio would be _down here_ if he could be _up there_ because heck, it didn’t make sense! “Oh, I know! You’re afraid to go in there ‘cause Ignis is in full-on mother hen mode and cooking and baking stuff like a crazy Lestallum wife, right?”

“Heh,” Gladio let out a laugh at his comment, but it sounded dry and humorless to Prompto’s ears. “But no, Iggy’s real busy at the Citadel.”

Again, Prompto was taken aback. The suspicion came over him that his best friend was all alone in his apartment with everyone else ‘too busy’ to keep him company. He didn’t dare ask Gladio _why the hell are you just standing here like a tree?!,_ as it became more and more clear that Gladio’s mood wasn’t at its best, either. Prompto knew it wasn’t his place to judge others like this, anyway. What did he know about what was going on in their life, to begin with?

“What ‘bout you? You goin’ up to meet Noct now?” Gladio then asked, and Prompto thought he sounded eager to get rid of him, but he wasn’t good with reading people he didn’t know well.

“Yeah. That, _and_ I wanted to help out this little guy here—” he made to gesture to Lady Lunafreya’s dog and craned his neck around in search for him, but while Prompto could _swear_ he’d been right behind him a minute ago, now he was gone. “—Wait, what?”

“Huh?” Gladio gave him a bewildered look.

“Oh, no.” Prompto looked around in panic. The little fellow was really gone. “I don’t get it. Where’d he disappear to?” Did he get lost somewhere again?

“You’re not making much sense there.”

“Uh, sorry.”

 _Just fucking great_. Now Gladio probably thought he wasn’t only stupid, but crazy too. “You know Lady Lunafreya’s dog—the dark one? I met him earlier, and he was _just here_ , like till a minute ago.”

“Ah, yeah,” Gladio began, then gave him a thumbs-up accompanied by an actual smile, and the tension in the air finally subsided. “Umbra’s a smart one. Don’tcha worry. I bet he went up ahead without us even noticin’.”

Prompto felt a surge of relief at hearing that, though he still felt the need to confirm that the dog really made it.

And, of course, he had come to see Noct.

“Well,” he started, clearing his throat. “Guess I’m gonna go after him—Umbra, I mean.”— _Right_ , that was the name! He waved Gladio goodbye. The guy hadn’t seemed too enthusiastic about talking to Prompto anyway.

“Sure. See ya around,” Gladio said. And that was it.

Prompto hurried away towards the apartment building. When he dared to look back, Gladio still stood there like a statue, staring into the distance, and Prompto had the feeling that things were much more complicated than he presumed them to be.

Once inside, he headed towards the elevator, by now used to the presence of the stationed Crownsguard—though there seemed to be more guards than usual. No surprise after what he’d heard from Gladio earlier.

Inside the elevator, he felt his stomach doing nervous flips. How should he act around Noct? Should he be his usual silly self and try to cheer his buddy up with stupid jokes? Or should he actually ask him about what happened and try to comfort him? Prompto didn’t know if he was up for the latter. He was bad at comforting people, or at least he thought so.

The elevator stopped at Noct’s floor, and Prompto wanted to both storm in as fast as possible, and delay it because he didn’t feel ready at all.

 _You can do this, Prompto,_ he told himself _. Noct is counting on you. He needs a friend now, he needs_ you _._

Yeah. This wasn’t about him, it was about Noct. He should pull himself together and be there for his best friend.

After he finally somewhat beat his miniature panic attack, he pressed the doorbell.

For a moment, it was deadly silent, and he thought no one would come to answer the door. But then, he heard the shuffle of footsteps before the door swished open.

Noct stood there, eyes wide in a way that Prompto could only decipher as surprise. He probably hadn’t expected him to come by. Prompto hoped he hadn’t crushed his friend’s hopes to see someone other than him.

“Hey, dude,” Prompto said, swallowing down the big lump in his throat.

“Hey,” Noct replied.

There was no way to sugarcoat it: Noct looked like shit. Dark bags were visible under his eyes, and in his oversized shirt and worn sweatpants, he looked more vulnerable than Prompto had seen him in…ever, probably. But, of course, his best dude still had his telltale “nothing gets to me” kind of expression plastered on his face—the one he had since grade school and which had made it so hard for Prompto to approach him back then.

By now, he knew it was all an act, though.

Prompto felt the urge to make things _right_ , to somehow get that expression wiped off Noct’s face. But he didn’t know _how_. So he did what he could do best, and started to ramble. “So, you won’t believe it, but we already got homework right on the first day! Crazy, huh?” he huffed out a nervous laugh. “I, uh, brought yours.”

Fishing the assignment sheets out of his bag, he handed them to Noct.

“Oh. Cool, thanks,” Noct said lamely, taking them. Homework obviously had been the last thing on his mind.

 _Great move, Prompto._ He wanted to headbutt the nearest wall.

“C’mon, get your ass inside,” Noct said and gave him a wry grin but with enough humor and warmth in it to make Prompto understand that his best friend was happy to see him.

That was all Prompto needed, the dark and tangled ball of self-doubt inside him giving way to something fuzzy and bright. He stepped inside the apartment, returning the grin, and didn’t hesitate long before he drew Noct into a hug.

They’d never hugged before. They were _dudes_ , after all. But it felt right, and in the way that Noct leaned into it just so slightly and mumbled a quiet “thanks” to him, he seemed to agree.

After a while, though, it became a bit _too_ nice and comfy in a way that Prompto wasn’t quite sure how to read, but _what_ he knew was that he didn’t want to break away anytime soon. So when the time came and Noct did free himself, he couldn’t help the tinge of disappointment.

They headed inside and Prompto glanced around. Everything was as it had been on Thursday when they’d last hung out together, and he couldn’t believe that Noct’s whole life had changed in the meantime. From prince to—what _was_ he now?

When he looked around he confirmed what he’d feared already, though. No one else was there. Was everyone really so busy?

That was when he became aware of the other reason why he wanted to check in on Noct, though. “Oh right! Did the little guy make it here? I met him a few blocks down.” At Noct’s perplexed expression, he added, “Umbra, wasn’t it?”

Noct’s expression turned from confused to something he couldn’t put his finger on. “Umbra? You saw him? Where?” The tone in his voice was urgent, almost desperate.

He didn’t know what got him more worried. Noct’s reaction or the fact that Umbra never made it. “He wasn’t here, you say?”

“No.” He hated the look on Noct’s face.

“That’s strange.” Prompto tried to make sense of it. “Maybe he made a little detour?”

Noct didn’t look convinced but after a few moments, he replied, “Yeah, that’s gotta be it.”

Prompto wondered if he should mention Gladio standing outside, too, but decided against it. He had the gut feeling it would do more harm than good. Then again, any kind of topic seemed like the wrong one to pick right that moment.

Before he could come up with something smart or _anything_ , _really_ , to say, Noct asked, “You in for a game?”

 _Oookay_ , that wasn’t what he’d expected by coming here, but if his buddy wanted to distract himself with a game who was he to deny him? “Sure, why not?” he replied and tried to make himself sound as enthusiastic as he could.

They agreed on a fighting game and made themselves comfortable on the couch, only talking about stupid mindless stuff that wasn’t related to these last fucked up days while they beat each other’s characters to a pulp.

Sure, they avoided what was important: Today’s news. Noct’s birthday. His unanswered texts. Their plans for the day after Noct’s birthday—the plans that never happened. Or the stupid birthday present that sat ignored in Prompto’s bag. They’d always been good at that, at tuning out the important stuff. Maybe, that’s why they’d become such good friends.    

So, they just sat there playing games until it got dark out. If his buddy lost a bit too often or didn’t really look straight at the screen, Prompto chose to ignore it.

If this was how he could be a good friend to Noct, if this was how he could be of help if even just a tiny bit—

Then he was ready to play this part, as fake as it was. Because as selfish as it sounded, he was his happiest when he could make Noct happy, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! I was so happy to read all your comments and thoughts last chapter, thanks so much :D  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And I'm sorry for all these depressed Noct moments. He'll get his act together very soon and the pace will pick up then (doesn't mean there won't be any angst anymore though lol). Anyway, feel free to let me know your opinion or any spelling and grammar mistakes! :')  
> As a side info: I'm basing the school system of Insomnia on the Japanese system, as Brotherhood strongly hints to that. So, the new school year starts in spring and not autumn. Meaning it's only a new semester, but not a new school year for Prompto.
> 
> By the way, look at this awesome art for The Sun Falls by the Artist Diamond1502 from DeviantArt!! It depicts the time travel scene in chapter one! Thanks so much, I love it!  
> https://i.imgur.com/uJrRxll.jpg
> 
> And of course, lots of thanks to my awesome beta readers [Poshu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poshu/pseuds/Poshu) and [Kitsune138](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsune138/pseuds/Kitsune138)! I feel so lucky that you're putting up with me.  
>   
> [tumblr](https://myoyakodon.tumblr.com/)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/oyashiran)  
> 


	5. Long Live Thy Line…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the new chapter at last. Another late update. What can I say at this point...? I hope you're still with me. :')
> 
> Everything noteworthy will be found in the end notes, but there's one news that belongs here:  
> I revised the first few chapters. It's nothing major content-wise, but I overhauled chapter one quite significantly, mostly just the style and language, and added some details here and there, moved around some parts, and cut some other long-winded parts a bit. There is no need to go back and re-read it or anything - I'll just let you guys know in case someone wonders why some parts seem different!
> 
> Now, on to the chapter. This is a bit longer than usual, but I hope you enjoy!

“Rise an’ shine, buddy!”

Noctis groaned. No way. It was early—way too early. And he was warm, he was comfy, so why the heck should he wake up?

Intent to get his point across he only snuggled in closer, pressing his cheek further into his pillow, or whatever this soft, warm thing was. It was as soft as chocobo downs, now that he noticed. He squeezed it as tight as he could and—

“ _Dude_! You tryin’ to strangle me or what?” came a high-pitched outcry from his pillow. Wait, since when did pillows speak?

Noctis peeked open one eye.

Oh. Not pillow. Prompto. His best friend whose face was so close that Noctis could make out each and every freckle on his nose.  

Oh—shit.

Jerking upright and quickly untangling himself, Noctis muttered, “M-mornin’”. He could feel his face grow hot.

Prompto snorted. “Is that all you have to say after almost squeezin’ me to death?” He acted all offended, but his face was as red as Noctis’s felt.

“Didn’t mean to,” Noctis replied. Just how the hell had they even ended up like this? They sometimes fell asleep on each other, but not like  _this_. They hadn’t even made it to bed as it seemed, the blanket that had wound up half on the floor evidence of a night spent on the sofa.

Something was off, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.

Prompto’s expression softened. “It’s fine,” he said, as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, seemingly looking anywhere but Noctis. “Figured you needed some, uh, rest after—y’know.”

After…? What did he mean?

Noctis’s breath caught in his throat when it finally dawned on him.

Damn it. Gods dammit, it happened again. For a moment, everything had been like it had been back then when they were younger, when Prompto had stayed over and they played games until they couldn’t keep their eyes open anymore. For a moment, it had felt all so familiar and he’d forgotten everything that had happened. But now, it all came flooding back. The reminder that  _nothing_  was all right.

It stung because yesterday had felt so normal. Prompto had come by. They’d played games. They’d eaten cup noodles because Noctis still couldn't cook to save his life if he didn’t have Ignis at his side to give him instructions. How long had they stayed up after that? Maybe he fell asleep on Prompto and his idiot friend didn’t have the heart to shove Noctis off.

Was this going to become his routine now? Waking up ignorant and happy, then getting reality shoved into his face? When would his pathetic brain finally get that there was no going back?

“So, uh,” Prompto started, making Noctis aware that they’d been sitting there in silence for too long to be normal. “How ‘bout breakfast?”

“Sure,” Noctis replied, maybe a bit too hastily.

It was while they once again sat on the sofa—a safe distance in between them—and Noctis had a mouthful of toast halfway down his throat that he noticed the obvious. He coughed, looked at the clock and felt guilt surging through him like a torrent. “Wait, don’t you have to be at school?”

“Nah, it’s good! I’m gonna spend today with my best buddy Noct here,” Prompto said before his brows furrowed together and he added more hesitantly, “If you don’t have other plans that is.”

“But you can’t just skip school.” Because of  _me_ , he wanted to add but kept his mouth shut.

“Who cares.” Prompto shrugged. “It’s no fun without you anyways.”

Noctis sighed in defeat. It wasn’t his place to make Prompto’s decisions.

“When…” Prompto continued, that hesitant tone back in his voice, “will ya come back to school?”

Just the thought of school made Noctis’s stomach turn. But if he was stuck in this timeline then he knew he needed to graduate high school at some point, or he’d end up the greatest disgrace of his bloodline—he probably already was.

But as luck would have it, for now he wasn’t even allowed to attend school. “ _It would be wise to lay low and not to leave your apartment for the meantime_ ,” Cor, Mr. Scientia, Ignis himself, everyone, had told him before he’d left the Citadel. Who was he to argue against that? Though, of course, they said they’d work out a way for his school work to reach him at home.

“I dunno,” he replied. ‘s not me who’s gonna decide that. Maybe in a few weeks?”

“By Royal Decree, huh?” said Prompto.

The mood turned even more awkward after that, if that was even possible. Prompto looked like a nervous mess. Noctis only felt numb. Now that he knew Umbra probably wouldn’t come for him and that he had next to no way of contacting Luna, he needed to come up with a new plan. But he was starting to think that it was no use. The entire world seemed to be against him.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He couldn’t believe that he’d ever again feel as helpless as he did back then after Altissia, after the Fall of Lucis. But now he did. At least then, his friends had been at his side.

At once, he was overcome with longing. He couldn’t help it, but he wished his friends were here. Not these young versions of them, but the ones who went through life and death with him. They would know what to do. Or at least they’d know how to push him in the right direction.

He glanced to his side where Prompto was quietly munching on his cereal. Noctis felt like a jerk. Here he was longing to see the future version of his best friend while Prompto already was the best friend he’d ever have.

Throat dry and all appetite lost, he pushed his plate away. Still, he didn’t just want to sit here wallowing in self-pity with Prompto looking at him as if he was a sad chocobo chick, so Noctis grabbed for the television remote and flipped to a random channel.

Which was probably a mistake, but duh.

_“—in these times of trouble. The Citadel is left in a chaotic state, now pressed to choose a new heir to the throne to continue upholding the Wall and protecting Lucis from outside threats.”_

Noctis looked on in a daze, the news that really wasn’t anything new, rushing through him. He squeezed the remote hard until his hand started throbbing.

_“The now-former Crown Prince is said to have accepted the renunciation and thus remains with the humble title of Prince of Lucis—"_

Before he knew it, the remote was wrenched from his fingers and the television shut off.

“C’mon Noct, let’s not watch that shit,” Prompto said, his voice sharp, snapping Noctis out of his daze.

Just a minute ago, Prompto had been the perfect image of softness and sweetness. But now, there was something dangerous, protective even, glinting in his eyes. It reminded him of the Prompto who’d gone through ten years of darkness in Noctis’s absence, who’d grown up into a man, a real Crownsguard, and the friend who’d reluctantly accompanied him to the steps of the Citadel, sending Noctis off to his death. There was this harsher side to Prompto but Noctis had never seen it on this young boyish face before.

Noctis had to look away. He didn’t know how to deal with what he saw in Prompto’s eyes.

But as quickly as the change had come it was gone again and Prompto was back to his cheerful self. “Hey, let’s do somethin’ fun!” he said, nudging Noctis’s side. “We could spend the whole day playing games. And— _Oh_ , I know! Let’s order in pizza too!”

No. Noctis couldn’t just stay in and run away from reality. But what  _should_  he do today?

“We can do your favorite thing! Oh wait, that’d be fishing. Guess that’s a no-go. Like, leaving the house and such—"

Fishing?

 _Fishing_. Why hadn’t he thought of it?

“—Or we could do a movie marathon! I know your Netsomnia account is bursting with—"

Noctis interrupted him, “Nah, actually, there’s a place I wanna go. You come with me?”

“Uh, what? You wanna go…outside?” Prompto gave him an uneasy look.

“Yeah.”

“I dunno if this is a good idea, dude.”

“Don’t care.”

“But—”

“I’ll go with or without you. You come along or not?”

Prompto’s brows furrowed together. “Fine,” he said though he looked like all he wanted to say was no. “But,” he added in a chiding tone, “I feel like this is a real bad decision just so you know!”

“Noted.”  _Whatever_. How could things get worse at this point? “It’ll be alright.” 

 

* * *

 

Noct wouldn’t be King.

It was already decided, a proven fact, everyone said so. But Gladio still had trouble believing it.

 _“It is best to accept the truth, Gladiolus. Noctis won’t be King_ ,” Gladio’s dad had told him, even before it had been all over the news. His father never lied.

That didn’t make it any easier to accept.

If Noct wouldn’t be King, Gladio wouldn’t be Shield—no, that wasn’t quite right. Gladio would be Shield. Just not Noct’s.

That thought turned his stomach. The idea of being someone else’s Shield—it was  _wrong_.

Someone else would use him from now on. All the effort he’d put into making Noct stronger, into helping him become someone able to fill the king's shoes had been in vain. All these years, in vain.

Gladio wanted to hit something. Hard. Clenching his fists, he somehow managed to hold back his aggression, but he couldn’t suppress the groan escaping his throat. In the quiet lobby of Noct’s apartment complex, it resounded loud and clear.

He looked around, making sure no one had witnessed his little moment of frustration. Even if they had, he wouldn’t really care. It didn't matter anyway. The lobby was deserted. Usually, guards were posted in here, but they’d left for outside soon after Gladio had come in earlier—probably to avoid him. He couldn’t fault them with the way he’d taken up his place here, standing around like one of those over-the-top bodyguards in the movies, lurking since—well, pretty much since early this morning.

Not to mention that this had been his routine for the past couple of days; come by Noct’s apartment building and linger around only to leave hours later with his tail between his legs. Just what the fucking hell was wrong with him? This wasn’t like him and he  _hated_  it.

He could just get his ass up to Noct’s apartment and do what he actually came for: see how he was doing and make sure that he was eating properly (no, that was Ignis’s job), be a good friend for him (no, he had that pipsqueak of a best friend for that), tell him his piece of mind about his performance at the ceremony—yes, that probably was what Gladio would do in the end; he’d explode on Noct the second he’d see him. And hell, that wouldn’t work out well.

But there were moments in between his brooding when Gladio could admit to himself what his actual problem was, the real reason why he didn’t have the guts to see Noct. Going up there, seeing Noct in whatever state he was in, would make it real. It would drive home that there was  _nothing_  Gladio could do, that he was powerless, despite being Shield.

He’d always believed that as Shield to the Crown he was prepared for everything. After all, Gladio practically had started his training when Noct wasn’t even born yet. His dad had taught him to deal with any kind of situation, whether that was a lazy charge, a group of fangirls, or an assassination attempt. Even for death he’d been ready, whether it would be his own or Noct’s. But this, he wasn’t prepared for. Not ever had Dad even hinted at the possibility of a Crown Prince falling out of favor to this extent. Not once in the history of Lucis had something like this happened.

No, Gladio wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t want to give up on Noct yet. But as Shield, as a servant to the future King, he wasn’t supposed to protect Noct anymore.

He started striding up and down the hall, listening to the click of his shoes over the marble floor, as he once more pondered his options. Go up and pay Noct a visit or—

 _Or,_  he thought,  _I could just leave already_ _._

The sound of the elevator’s ding from behind him interrupted his thoughts.

“—So, where’re we actually going?" rang out a familiar voice from the same direction.

The kid. Noct’s alleged best friend. Who was speaking to someone. Wait, no way—

“Gladio?” came an even more familiar voice, one he hadn’t expected here; because Noct wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t  _fucking_ supposed to leave the building.

But when Gladio turned around, Noct stood there, in a shirt too long and too warm for this weather, hood pulled over his head, looking at Gladio with the same unnerving expression he’d had on his face since his birthday. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Gladio said, feeling close to exploding. What was Noct even thinking? If he thought that hood would do the job of keeping his face concealed, he was badly mistaken. It was a dumb idea. Noct’s face was all over the media and people weren’t stupid.

“Wo-oah—” Prompto chimed in, “you’re still here, big guy?”

Gladio wanted to roll his eyes, but he held it back. The way the kid had looked at him yesterday when Gladio told him that he didn’t plan to see Noct had rubbed him the wrong way. What did a high schooler like him know anyway?

“Don’t kid yourself. I just came.”

“O-okay,” was all the wuss replied.

Noct stepped in front of Prompto, still that weird, hard expression on his face, and asked, “What’s  _your_  business here?”

“Was checkin’ in with the guards ’s all,” Gladio said.

“Is that so…”

“And  _you_  better not think of going anywhere far.” What kind of trouble was Noct up to this time? Did he take all this seriously at all? If he cared about Lucis and King Regis, he wouldn’t just go playing around with Prompto somewhere and make things more difficult for everyone.

“Don’t worry. Just gonna make a quick stop at the convenience store,” said Noct.

Gladio didn’t know whether Noct was lying or not. “If I hear that you went somewhere else—” he started, letting his anger toward his charge—former charge—seep into his voice for a moment. “Just—just don’t make our job more difficult, ‘kay?”

“I get it,” was all Noct answered. “C’mon, Prompto. Let’s go.”

“Comin’. See ya, Gladio!” The kid waved.

Gladio gave a stiff nod in response.

They left.

Gladio followed them out shortly after, waiting until they were out of eyeshot, and approached two of the glaives. It looked as if they were already preparing to follow after Noct. “No need to worry. We’ll take care of it,” one of them said.

He watched them leave, then tilted his head up to the sky, pressing his palms into his eyes. He didn’t know what to think or feel anymore.

His phone chimed. A message from his dad.

 **Clarus (11:59):** Where are you?

The simple question sounded like an accusation. Gladio pocketed the phone. He didn’t want to deal with his dad right now.

His phone chimed again. Gladio groaned. Dad. Again.

 **Clarus (12:00):** You are expected to attend the ceremony this afternoon. 1530 hours at the Crystal Chamber. Don’t be late.

Just great.

He couldn’t believe it, but it was really happening. It wouldn’t be Noct standing in front of the Crystal this time, but someone else. His new future King.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Prompto started, a hint of skepticism in his voice, “you gonna explain how a so-called ‘quick stop at the convenience store’ became a freakin’ bus ride?”

Noctis gave him a look. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Okay, I get it. You  _lied_.” Prompto looked at him as if he’d done something unforgivable—like flirting with Cindy or something. “But where are we headin’?”

“Parvalacus Reservoir,” Noctis replied, hoping that this information would be enough to prevent a further onslaught of questions from Prompto.

“Wait, we’re honestly goin’  _fishing_?”

“Remember how it was your idea?”

“Hey! That wasn’t how it went! Remember how  _I_  told  _you_  it’s a bad idea to leave your apartment?”

“Yeah, yeah. If something happens, I’ll bear the full responsibility,” Noctis assured him. “Happy now?”

Prompto let out a heavy sigh as his shoulders slackened, his head bumping against the side of the bus window. “Dude, you’ll be the death of me one day.” But thankfully, Prompto finally seemed to calm down and accept his fate.

Although Noctis too was worried about people recognizing him, that was what the hoodie was there for. They most likely wouldn’t attract any attention where they were headed, anyway. It was a normal work and school day and not many people left for the outskirts of Insomnia. The public bus they rode was next to empty, except for a few elderly folks sitting in the front part of the bus, and,  _well_ , the glaives who’d followed them “incognito”; not that Noctis felt too bothered by their presence.

Noctis reclined back in his seat and closed his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts.

The encounter with Gladio left him uneasy, his stomach in knots. Since the ceremony, Gladio hadn’t contacted him at all even though he’d been right there in his apartment building. And if he didn’t get Prompto’s earlier comment wrong, Gladio had also been nearby yesterday. But he hadn’t come up to see Noctis, not even once.

Noctis wondered why. It wasn't like Gladio to avoid him even when he was angry. But then again, they'd never found themselves in a situation like this in his past life. He had no way of knowing what was going through Gladio's head right now.

Was Gladio disappointed in him? It wouldn’t come as a surprise. Noctis knew from his past—and future—experiences with Gladio just how important his duty as Shield and the honor of the line of the Amicitias were to him. Now that Noctis had gotten himself stripped of his title, he’d also taken away parts of Gladio’s honor.

Who wanted to be remembered as the Shield of a failure?

So yes, maybe Gladio was disappointed, angry, and would never forgive him. The idea that one of his oldest friends didn't want anything to do with him anymore, even here in this fucked up timeline, left him with a cold shuddering anxiety. But he knew that he couldn’t allow himself to be affected by it. He didn’t have the luxury, nor did he have the right. His friends’ disappointment was the last thing he had to worry about right now. Noctis had screwed up badly. He knew that.

Wrenching his eyes open, he looked for any kind of distraction, anything to rid his mind of these stupid thoughts.

His eyes landed on Prompto who was busy pressing his face against the window and taking pictures of the landscape. He looked so excited, so young like this. And young he was, Noctis needed to remind himself. Prompto was, what, sixteen here?

He, too, looked young, though, thought Noctis as he caught his own reflection in the window. It was off-putting, upsetting even to look at the boyish features. It felt like someone had transformed him without his permission, as if he didn’t have any ownership over his body anymore. Would he wake up a five-year old tomorrow? Or a fifty-year old? Nothing would surprise him at this point.

He’d felt the same way after his return from Reflection, after he heard he’d been gone for a decade. After he’d seen his face in the mirror. He’d been thirty. He still was thirty. Did he feel it? He didn’t know. It wasn’t as if he’d  _lived_  during his Crystal slumber, as if he experienced real life and grew up like his friends did. He matured in a different way; he came back a man ready to die, a King ready to do what needed to be done for his people, and that had been enough as his days had been numbered anyway.

And now here he was. Seventeen. He neither felt thirty nor seventeen. He didn’t know what he was, but it was neither of those.

Sickened by what he saw in his reflection, he wrenched his eyes away.

Soon enough, they arrived at the natural park bus station. From there Noctis needed a moment to figure out where to go. It was a different path than the one he’d walked with Gladio the other day, the one to the parking lot, the one he’d walked a dozen times in his past life. Thankfully, Insomnia never failed to provide signposts, so they eventually found the right path. The glaives who’d followed them here kept their distance. Noctis was grateful for that.

“Ahhh, nice! Green spaces like this are so rare in Insomnia,” Prompto commented as they walked down the hiking trail.

Prompto was right, though it was still way too hot for Noctis’s comfort—not that his thick hoodie was helping. But the sky was cloudy and promised a change in the weather soon. Noctis remembered how it had always been like this. Not long after his birthday, rain season would start.

“So, where’s your fishing gear?” Prompto asked. “You put it in that handy telepathic arsenal space of yours?”

Prompto’s question felt like a stab to his gut. “I…” Noctis inhaled a deep breath before he forced out, “I can’t use it anymore.”

“Uh, what?”

“The armiger, my magic, all of it. Can’t use ‘em,” he said and dared to take a glance at Prompto. He could see his best friend’s eyes widening, shock written on his face.

“Wait, really? That’s, dude, is _that_  why—?” Prompto stuttered, evidently connecting the dots, then stopped himself as if he was afraid to say the wrong thing. At last, he meekly added, “I’m so sorry, buddy…” Noctis hated the expression on his face. Was it pity?

“Don’t sweat it,” Noctis said. He didn’t know what more to add and he definitely didn’t want to talk about the loss of his magic, so he turned the subject back to his fishing equipment. “My gear’s all in my backpack. I brought my telescopic rod. It’s not that good, but it’ll do.” He hadn’t come here to get a good catch today anyway.

“Telescopic rod? That sounds way cool.” Prompto sounded much more eager about fishing than he had during their journey. “Man, this is, like, the first time I’ll be seein’ you fishing!”

What? His first time? “Really?” Noctis would’ve thought he’d brought Prompto with him before. Not to the reservoir, but to the Central Canal at least. After all, they’d already been friends for one or two years.

“Yeah, man. After all the times you’ve talked my ear off about fishin’ it’s high time, don’tcha think?” He said, slapping Noctis on his back. “Make up for it today, ‘kay? I wanna see an epic battle between man and fish!”

Right, Noctis could give him that. The least he could do was give Prompto a good show.

They made it to the shore with the main pier. It was exactly the same spot where Noctis had found himself with Gladio three days ago. So much had happened in such a short time, it sure felt longer than a span of three days.

Prompto walked over to the pier and kneeled down, sticking his fingers in the water. “It’s warm, Noct!” he said eagerly, as he began to undo his shoelaces. “I gotta get my feet in there!”

“Heh, good idea.” Noctis followed Prompto’s example and sat down on the pier, making himself comfortable, shoes and socks soon gone and feet in the water. It did feel nice. When was the last time he’d relaxed?

He knew the answer. Before Altissia. After, rest and fun had become foreign concepts. Sitting here like this felt like a sin when he thought about how Eos would become a dark place like that once again.

Noctis slumped his shoulders, self-loathing getting the better of him. As he peered over the lake, he started second-guessing his decision to come here. How would it even help him fix anything at all?

The water rippled gently around his feet, not offering up any answer.

But he knew one thing for sure. Everything—the disaster of the last days—had started here. Well actually, everything had started with  _that fish_. If there was one thread that connected his original time with this distorted version of his past, it was the fish. It had been there when he’d been heading towards death out in that fucked up ocean, and it had been here in the lake, too. And then there were these weird dreams… Whichever way he looked at it, one thing was clear: the fish was the link.

It was as if the fish had brought him here. But how? And why?

Shaking his head at these pointless thoughts, he made to get his gear out of his backpack and prepare the line. He just wanted his mind to stop raging at him.

“Um, Noct?” Prompto asked. He’d been quiet for a while, now that Noctis thought about it.

“Hm?”

“Y’know, if there’s somethin’ I can—"

“You boys come out here to throw some lines?”

Noctis jerked his head to his left. Heart in throat, his brain needed a moment to process what he was hearing and seeing. How had he failed to notice a man sitting just ten feet away at the water’s edge as if he’d been there for hours, with a whole range of fishing equipment strewn around him?

“Hello, boys. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to startle you. It’s just so rare to see youngsters like you two around here.”

Prompto looked as stunned as he felt, though he appeared to have recovered more quickly than Noctis. “Hello!” He waved at the man.

Noctis’s heart was still galloping in his chest, but he forced out one of his usual angler greetings, “Perfect day for fishing, huh?”

“You could say so.” The man gave him a smile. At least he didn’t appear to recognize Noctis. He was glad not everyone knew how his face looked. Still, he couldn’t help pulling the hood of his shirt a bit closer around his face.

“Are you two planning to haul in a big snapper?” asked the man.

Prompto said, “Ah no, only my buddy here.”

“Aha!” he replied, looking Noctis up and down and taking his time doing so. Noctis didn’t know if he should be annoyed or creeped out. What if this man recognized him after all? 

But the man only broadened his smile. “If you’re looking for a sweet spot for a catch, you ought to try your luck over there,” he said, as he pointed to the reed-covered part of the lake. “The lake opens up into a small stream there that leads into a cavern. They say every fisherman’s wish will be fulfilled if they reel in the fish inhabiting that cave.”

“Why are  _you_  fishing over here, then?” asked Prompto.

“Ah well, this old man here only has one wish left. A wish that may be a bit too grand even for a legendary catch like this.”

“Huh,” was all Noctis could get out at that _._ What a weird man. He didn’t even look that old. Maybe about the same age as Navyth, though his manner was all different. Navyth—now that Noctis remembered him he wondered how the fisherman was doing. Had he survived the ten years of darkness?

Prompto jabbed his side, his eyes were glistening with anticipation. “Dude, we gotta check out that secret spot!”

Although Noctis didn’t really care for getting a legendary catch, it was a good excuse to get away from this guy. He stood, dried his feet, and slipped into his socks and shoes. Prompto had already done just that and was waiting up for Noctis.

“Guess I can’t pass this up,” he said in parting to the man, as he picked up his tools and bag.

“Why, yes. May your wishes come true.”

As he left, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the man’s eyes were following him.

Taking the small footpath that led around the lake, they walked it down for a good fifteen minutes until they came close to the area the man had pointed towards. No path directly led to that part of the lake though, so they had to trudge through the bushes off the beaten path.

Prompto was the image of excitement, chatting away without pausing for a breath. “Woohoo, this feels like an adventure! An adventure to meet the wish-fulfilling fish, the—oh! The— _wish fish_! I like that sound. Here we are, on our quest to seek out the legend of the wish fish—“

Noctis couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, you said it.” This was Prompto all right. Perhaps it had been a good decision to let him tag along.

They made it as close to the water’s edge as possible. As the man had said, the lake opened up into a little creek that ran into a cave. The cave entry was wide and open, the cool darkness inside promising a respite from the heat on this late summer day. And here was the supposedly good fishing spot?

“That a place like this exists in the Crown City,” Prompto said, as he looked around in awe. He let out a whistle. The sound came echoing back.

“Yeah.” Noctis, too, was baffled. A cave in  _his_ city and he’d never known if not for traveling through time.

“Wonder where the cave leads to,” said Prompto, as he peeked further inside.

Right, both the cave and the stream seemed to continue on even further. Damn did he feel the urge to explore the cave now, but no way in hell would he take sixteen-year-old Prompto with him. Even if there weren’t any daemons in Insomnia, he wouldn’t risk anything if Prompto was involved.

“Let’s fish,” he proposed instead and started prepping his line once more, using one of the cheap lures in his possession.

“Can’t wait to haul in the wish fish, huh?“ Prompto commented, then sat himself down on the ground right at the cave entrance. ”Phew. at least ’s nice and cool here. Man, do I hate summer.”

Noctis smiled to himself but stayed silent. He threw the line and waited. Prompto chattered on and on about this and that and Noctis was content.

He felt a tug on the line.

“Oh! Something’s biting!” Prompto shouted.

Noctis snorted. “Wouldn’t have noticed without you.”

It was a small fish, and Noctis reeled it in easily enough despite his crappy rod. He held it up for Prompto to inspect.

Prompto cheered. “Nice one!”

“It’s small fry.”

“Looks big to me,” Prompto retorted. Noctis could  _hear_ him pouting. “But that guy said any fish will do, right?”

“It’s just a legend,” he said as he returned the fish back to the water.

“I know, but—" Prompto began, then broke off and huffed, frustrated.

“Why? Want the fish to grant you a wish?" Noctis asked. He knew he was being a jerk again. He just couldn’t help it. He felt so bitter about everything. What was he even doing here exactly? Fishing—while the world was heading into chaos?

“Nah, not me, dude,” Prompto said, giving him a look that said it all, and Noctis understood at last. “I thought…I thought if someone needs a wish fish right now it’s… _you_ —like, y’know.”

“Prompto, I…” It wasn’t the first time today Noctis thought he hadn’t earned himself a friend like Prompto. “Thanks. I mean it.”

“Anytime, bud.”

“Heh.”

He threw another line.

Prompto was right. He really could do with a little wonder right now. He’d come here for his dream fish, but a wish fish would be just as good.

Nothing was biting, though. The water was still. Prompto started babbling again; something about the newest game at the arcade, but after a while Noctis had trouble focusing on his words, so he just tuned him out. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to listen, but his mind began to slow down and his eyes grew impossibly heavy. The surface of the water rippled, and he could swear he saw something golden beneath it. His eyes grew heavier, he could barely look straight anymore. What was happening…?

Everything around him dulled, and Noctis dreamed.

They were sprinting down the corridors of the Citadel, the daemons hot on their heels.

Gladio led the front. While Noctis felt all but lost in this maze that was the Citadel, Gladio seemed to know exactly which corners to turn or staircases to take, shouting out directions from time to time.

Ignis jogged along beside Noctis, a steady hand on his back, helping him up when he would stumble.

Prompto was at the rear, covering them from behind. Every now and then Noctis could hear a gunshot and the screech of a daemon.

They rounded another corner, gasping for breath. He knew they had only seconds. Seconds before the daemons would overtake them. Noctis felt ready to collapse. The adrenaline rushing through him was the only thing keeping him going. But every second counted.

“Almost there!” Gladio called out after they climbed another staircase. “We gotta get you to the Crystal, then we can stop them all at once! Bahamut will show you the way. Don’t fight it.”

At his side, Ignis nodded. “Indeed. You’ll be in good hands with the Draconian,” he said just when they arrived in the hall leading to the Crystal Chamber. He steered Noctis towards the doors with a gentle nudge and added, “We’ll take care of matters here and will wait for your return.”

“Yeah buddy, you go get ‘em cool crystal powers!” Prompto spoke in a shrill voice, sounding hyper even for his own standards. “Who cares if we’ll live in ten years of darkness in the meanwhile?”

If Noctis hadn’t known that this was a dream, he would’ve found their words and behavior off-putting, if not frightening. They didn’t sound like his friends at all.

The doors to the chamber opened with a groan. His friends were right, so he headed inside, ready to fulfill their expectations.

The Crystal wasn’t there, though. In its place, there was a huge fishing pond.

 _Just as well_ , Noctis thought, excitement filling him at the prospect of fishing. The pond of water shimmered crystal clear, beckoning him closer. It was full of exotic fish of all kinds of sizes and colors. Noctis would never believe there existed a place in Eos with Silver Lucian Carps and Glowing Barrelfish residing in the same waters, but here it was. It was an angler’s paradise and he was the one to find it.

“Fishing looks good here,” he said out loud to let his friends know of his discovery before he remembered that he was alone now. A glance back to the door confirmed it: it was closed shut. Well, his friends surely wouldn’t mind a little detour, right? The Crystal was nowhere in sight, anyway.

When he turned back to the pond, however, all the fish were gone. Except for one.

Oh no, he knew that fish. “You. Again.”

“I see your manners haven’t improved in the slightest, my king.”

“Look who’s talking.” Why was this fish so irritating?

The fish tsked. “I will not stoop down to your level of mannerism. And frankly, you have much worse concerns.” From the way it waggled around Noctis could tell it was gravely upset. “If only you would have listened to me the other time, matters wouldn’t have gone so out of  _fin_.” The fish gave Noctis an I-told-you-so look.

“Hey, don’t give me that look! Not my fault you were talking gibberish.”

“Gibberish? I do not understand,” said the fish. ”I dare say, my grasp of the human language is bare of flaw.”

 _Didn’t you hear yourself talking?_  was what Noctis wanted to retort at that moment, but he stopped himself, the memories of their last encounter now much clearer than during his waking hours. Now that he remembered, that encounter had been weird in the weirdest sense, not only because of the fish’s weirdness. He remembered a static rendering everything around him inaudible, remembered pulses of an electrical current coming between them, just like Ramuh’s—

Ramuh.

“Could it be,” he began to say, then swallowed hard, his throat dry at the realization that it most likely wasn’t only Bahamut who thought of him as a traitor. “Could it be the Astrals? Ramuh, maybe? It felt like his magic. It felt as if he was there.”

The fish hummed. “Interesting. I should have known they would have an eye on your dreams as well. Which means we are pressed in time. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came up with another petty scheme to prevent us from talking freely.” Could fishes scoff? It sure did sound like it.

“Bahamut called me a traitor. Ramuh seems to be on it too. What’s going on?”

“Yes, I’m afraid most, if not all, of the Astrals have banded together against us.”

 _Us_ _?_  The fish made it sound as if they were partners in crime or something.

The fish continued, “He certainly already has that dishonor of a water goddess on his side. I am sure you haven’t forgotten her intervention when we first met? Back on the Great Pond of the Otherworld?”

Huh. Back out there on the ocean. The storm, and the waves swallowing him up. That had been Leviathan?

“Because of  _that shrew_ ,” the fish spat out, making his dislike of Leviathan evident, “you almost didn’t make it to this timeline.”

What? But why? Noctis didn’t get it. “I don’t get it. Why don’t they want me here? How— _why_  did I end up in the past anyway?” If Noctis sounded desperate, he didn’t care.

“Unfortunately, my king, there is no time to answer all your questions,” the fish said. “Although our connection is stronger here this close to the waters I inhabit, I fear they could strike anytime.”

Noctis had enough. He wanted answers. Now. “Then tell me this. Who the hell are you?”

“Me? It is nice of you that you’re finally asking for my name. However, I do not have one.”

Noctis wanted to either pull his hair out or strangle this little fish.  _I wasn’t asking for your damn name_!

His thoughts must’ve shown on his face because the fish cut in, “How disrespectful.” It turned its ‘back’ to Noctis then, mumbling to itself, though still loud and clear to Noctis’s ears, “How will the little king ever be ready to find me….“

Noctis snorted. Gods, he had enough of this know-it-all fish. “Tell me, why should I even come to find you? Will it help me fix this mess? ‘s not as if you’re bein’ any fucking helpful.”

The moment Noctis said the words, the ground beneath his feet started rumbling.

“Oh, now you have done it,” the fish said. “Here he is, the Archaeon.”

“Just—just tell me what I need to know before—” A stronger tremor made Noctis nearly fall over. “—before it’s too late!”

“Listen, my king, there is only one way to—” Another tremor interrupted the fish. Noctis wanted to curse out loud. He was starting to hate the Astrals. And this fish. “You need to find this place. Come and meet me here,” the fish said.

This place? Noctis looked around. When he came in earlier, he’d assumed it was the Crystal Chamber. But the place looked older, darker, like some old ruins found underground. He’d never seen this place before. Only in his dreams— _oh_.

The quakes became louder and stronger, Noctis couldn’t keep himself upright anymore. He knew they didn’t have any more time.

“Nadir—,” the fish continued.

“And what’s that supposed to mean now?” Noctis growled out.

“—from the heavens high, to the blessed below, shines the beam of a peace long besought. Long live thy line and... hmmm, you should know the rest.”

The next tremor took Noctis tumbling to the ground. Everything around him blurred. He continued falling—falling through an abyss of darkness.

He fell, and fell, and—

_“—ude—”_

Huh?

“ _—_ Dude!”

Noctis’s eyes snapped open.

Prompto’s face, leaning in close to his, greeted him. The way he could make out the freckles on Prompto’s cheeks gave him a feeling of déjà vu.

“Huh?”

“Man, you really  _can_  sleep anywhere.”

Noctis straightened up and looked around. “I…fell asleep?” It seemed he’d been sleeping on the stone ground. Man, his back ached. This wasn’t the right treatment for his never-quite-fully-recovered childhood injury.

“Yep, genius.”

Noctis muttered, “Could’ve woken me up.”

“You looked so peaceful. Couldn't bring myself to do it." Prompto’s brows furrowed together. “You…all right?”

A good question. One he didn’t know the answer to.

The memories of his dreams were sharp and clear now, but he didn’t have the feeling his newest encounter with the fish had been any help at all.

Nadir. How could this one word tell him how to find the fish? “Nadir…” he tested the word on his tongue. Where had he heard it before?

“Nadd—what? Seriously, you okay?” Prompto asked, starting to look freaked out.

“Yeah, sorry. Let’s…head back?”

“Eh? Already?”

“Yep.” He needed to find out what all this was about. He needed to find that place. Then, maybe, he’d have another chance to make things right.

 

* * *

 

Gladio watched the Crystal’s light shine bright and clear.

The man who stood in the center of the light wasn’t Noct. No, it was some mid-thirty-year old guy who appeared to be everything a King should be, everything Noct really wasn’t— _yet_. A man who’d graduated Insomnia Royal University with honors, who was now the head of one of Lucis’s greatest business conglomerates, someone who could shoulder all responsibility thrown at him. And most importantly, whose royal blood was thick enough to be gifted with the ability to use Crystal magic. He was perfect King material. He’d be the better choice for Lucis.

At least, that’s what the glaives hat told him. And still, Gladio didn’t like him.

He hadn’t even bothered to ask the glaives for his name. It would mean he’d had to acknowledge him as his charge, as his future king.

Noct hadn’t quite earned his full respect yet, but he’d been close enough—so very close. Gladio had started to see something more in him than just the scrawny brat he’d first met when they were kids.

Well, all that wasn’t important anymore because everything had gone to shit.

Ignis who stood rigidly at his side didn’t seem to fare any better than him—if not worse. No surprise there. They were tied in duty, tied in their loyalty. He could tell that Ignis despised the idea of someone taking Noct’s place. And damn, as uncharacteristic as it was, Ignis looked as if he wanted to drag the man in an abandoned alley and beat him to a pulp.

Gods yes,  _that’s_  what Gladio wanted to do. He needed to hit something or  _someone_  hard or he feared he’d punch the Crown Prince-to-be on accident.

Deciding to stop by the training hall after this, he waited out the rest of the ceremony.

Once it was over at last, Ignis left as quickly as he’d come. Gladio wondered if he’d meet him over at the training room.

His eyes once again shifted to the now-Crown Prince.

It was then his father came over, halting right beside Gladio and following the line of his sight.

His dad expelled a sigh. It sounded wearier than Gladio would’ve expected from him. “I wanted you to see this,” Dad said. “Our line, we Amicitias are born to serve only one king. This person is who you must give your loyalty now. Understood?”

“I get it,” Gladio forced out.

“Do you really?”

 _Why are you doubting me?_  he wanted to ask. He’d always taken his duty seriously and he’d continue to do so in the future. To prove his point he asked, “When will we be introduced?”

“In the coming days. Not everything has been settled yet, but you will meet soon enough.”

His father clasped his hand on Gladio’s shoulder, squeezing it. “Now then, I need to return to His Majesty’s side. Don’t wait for me at home, and tell Iris so as well.”

“Got it.”

Soon enough, Gladio was left to himself. Good. He needed to vent his rage now.

Before he left the chamber, he eyed the man one last time.

There was no denying it anymore. This man received the Crystal’s blessing. Noct hadn’t.

* * *

“Someone’s,” Crowe huffed as she blocked one of his punches, “in a fouler mood—” A row of kicks came his way. “—than yesterday!”

Gladio parried the onslaught, gritting his teeth at the burn in his arms, and took the next opportunity to withdraw a few paces away to catch his breath. “Give me…one reason…to be in a good mood,” he growled between short breaths.

Crowe sneered at him. “Aww, big puppy is sad because he lost his master.”

Her comment only worsened his mood. What was it with that woman that always got to him?

It only spiked his will to win this fight, though. He charged in again.

Ten minutes later found them gasping, sweating, and with a winner.

"Well, looks like I’m the winner," Gladio said. He couldn't help the smugness seeping into his voice.

"Only barely," Crowe said, scoffing. Clearly still out of breath, she sank down on the closest bench. "You're too much. You do know hand-to-hand isn't my forte, kiddo, do ya."

Gladio snorted. But he knew she was right. She would’ve destroyed him if magic had come into play.

Gladio extracted two bottles of CoolCool from his bag and handed one to Crowe as he sat down beside her. “Bein’ a sore loser, glaive?

“’s that how you always talk to women?”

“What woman?” He arched his brows in an exaggerated manner and pretended to look around the empty training room. “I only see  _you_.”

Crowe punched his side, followed by a series of Galahdian curse words. Well, he kind of deserved that.

Not that he didn’t see how gorgeous a woman she was. But she only saw him as a kid and her sparring partner.

Gladio gulped down the rest of his soda. Once done, he gave Crowe a side glance. He deliberated for no more than a second before he asked, “Heard anything new?”

“’Bout what?”

“Do I really need to spell it out to ya?”

“Sorry, you’re just too much fun to tease, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me kiddo.”

“Fine, puppy.”

Gladio wanted to growl but he knew she’d only use it to prove her point about him being a goddamn 'puppy'.

Instead, he swallowed down his pride and didn’t comment on the nickname. “So, anythin’?”

“Ugh, fine _,_ ” Crowe grunted out. “What is it you want to know, anyway? Didn’tcha see the new Crown Prince at that fancy pants ceremony?”

“I did, but no one tells me anything.”

She gave him a look that said she didn’t pity him in the slightest. But eventually, she said, “I’m gonna share a lil rumor with ya.”

Gladio was all ears. “What kind?”

“Not sure if you’ll like it, though. Think you can handle it?”

“Spit it out already.”

“Well, the rumor goes ‘round that our Crown Prince-to-be is taking his personal bodyguard to the Citadel.” Crowe paused, gave him a pointed look, and added, “As his future Shield.”

Gladio froze. He could swear his heart skipped at least three beats.

“I told ya you won’t like it.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“As I said, it’s just a rumor. For now.”

Right. It was a rumor, no more. If this were a thing, his father would’ve told him.

He wanted to ask her more, he wanted to ask her who the fucking hell was spreading this nonsense, but her fellow glaive the hero showoff decided to barge in right then. Best fucking timing.

“Oho,” Nyx said as he came over. “What’s this lil secret assembly I’m witnessing here?”

“Not your business,” Gladio grumbled.

Nyx, all grinning and good-natured—somehow that grin pissed Gladio off more than it probably should—said, “I tell you, when you hang around us glaives anymore often, your fancy Crownsguard folks will start talking you’ve become one of us.”

“Well, he’s welcome to join us,“ Crowe said, winking at him.

Nyx and Crowe then started talking about this and that, mostly glaive business. Gladio didn’t hear any of it.

All his brain could do was wander back to the ceremony. Had there been someone whose face he didn’t know? He couldn’t remember. He’d been too busy glaring at the back of the new Crown Prince to notice anyone else.

This couldn’t fucking happen.

Noct wouldn’t be King.

And maybe… Maybe, Gladio wouldn’t be anyone’s Shield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!  
> This was a bit longer - once I noticed how long it got I planned to split up the chapter, but in the end, I only transferred 1-2 scenes to chapter 6. 
> 
> But--!! Much more importantly, I want to say a big thank you to you guys! :D I can't believe this weird fic reached 100+ kudos! And I'm even more thrilled about all your lovely comments, they keep me going - thank you so much, everyone!
> 
> I got to admit, I started re-reading the first chapters a couple months back and was VERY dissatisfied with chapter one in particular, which is why I went back for revisions several times. This took away a lot of time from writing. So sorry, but I had to do this for myself! I don't think I'll ever be completely happy with this fic, and I know for a fact there are more revisions to come, but I want to make the best of it. :)
> 
> Next chapter will be ready when it will be ready, I promised myself not to make any more promises to you guys because I don't want to break them (again). The latest FFXIV collab confirmed that my headcanons are going in the right direction, though (DID YOU PLAY IT), so I'm looking very forward to continuing this!
> 
> Well then, I'd absolutely love to hear your opinion on this chapter. :3 Many new and old people showed up, the plot is thickening, and I just needed to make Noctis go fishing again.  
> I wish you all lovely holidays!  
>    
> Lastly, as always, big shout-out to my wonderful beta readers [Kitsune138](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsune138/pseuds/Kitsune138) and [Poshu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poshu/pseuds/Poshu)! I’m so lucky to have you! I also want to say thanks to another for now anonymous beta reader who helps me with the revisions!  
>    
> [tumblr](https://myoyakodon.tumblr.com/)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/oyashiran)  
> 


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